Something Like Love
by RRfan4life
Summary: Rachel asks the help of an old friend when she needs a date to her exfiance's wedding. What she gets is an unexpected wakeup call... and a little something more. [RossRachel, AU, complete]
1. Chapter 1

Something Like Love  
By Caity

**A/N: **New story time! Hehe this is a story that I've been developing in my mind and on paper since last weekend. It's kind of funny, because its the third or fourth idea I've had for my next fic, haha. They've ranged from drama to humor and inbetween. I originally wanted to write some compelling, knitty-gritty drama. Then, after just watching a romantic comedy and reading a really sweet, simple little fic (As I said at the end of my last story, "Bed Of Roses" by Tina Chaves-- read it!), I kind of got the desire to do something simpler. Something cute, sweet, and funny. And this fic was born.

This story is based off the movies "Picture Perfect" and "The Wedding Date", just to give the proper credit there lol. It's pretty AU, as I've changed some character relationships (as in who was friends with who) and given different timing to everything. Just to verify, it's pretty much in modern times.

Rachel is 27. She ran out on her wedding to Barry three years prior, but she did not run to Monica. She hasn't had a decent, "serious" relationship since. She shares an apartment in the East Village with her roommate, college friend Phoebe (yes, _that_ Phoebe. I told you it was pretty AU!). She knew both Monica and Ross in high school, but hasn't really seen either since. There will be allusions to Monica, Chandler, and Joey, but they are not integral to the story at all. It is more a story of Rachel's coming-of-age through a strange, growing relationship with Ross. Everything else will pretty much be explained as the story goes on.

**Disclaimer: **If you think I own these guys, then that would be pretty cool. Though, alas, I do not. But if you're willing to sell Ross to me for a reasonable amount of money, I wouldn't say no.

* * *

"Oh, you're home!"

"I cannot _believe_ you set me up with this guy, Phoebs!", Rachel Green yelled, slamming the door behind her. She threw her purse onto one of the endtables in her spacious apartment, luxuriously situated in NewYork's Upper East Side. As she shedded her coat, she layed into her roommate a bit more. "I mean, do you not know me at all?!"

"Rachel, come on! He was cute!", the eccentric blonde protested, her many rings twinkling in the light as she held up her hands in defense. "I know you- you like cute guys! I got you a cute guy!"

Rachel stared her down a moment before answering.

"He was unemployed, Phoebs! No money!". She stopped for a moment, looking flustered and almost offended. "He wore _jeans _on the first date."

Phoebe, at first too befuddled to even say anything, screeched "_Jeans?_ So what, Rachel? He was a really great guy, you missed out!"

Taking a deep breath, Rachel collapsed onto the large, cushy white couch in the front room. "I know!", she yelled. She let out a tremendous sigh, letting her eyes drift to the large window overlooking a nearby park. As she took in the streetlights and starlight reflecting off the puddles in the roads, she thought a moment. "I know," she repeated, this time more quietly. "What's wrong with me? I mean, there's something wrong with _every_ guy. Am I just setting myself up for this?" She held her hands up in surrender.

"No, no," Phoebe comforted, sitting beside her friend. "Look, Rach, I've known you for- what- nine years? In college, you were never like this!" She took a moment to consider. "Okay, well you definitely were picky, but there was always a 'right now' guy. You were always more concerned with having fun, so you bent a little more. Like a . . . bendy straw! And now, you're just, like, this really hard, straight, plastic one!"

"I'm a straw?", she asked in confusion.

"No, Rach! What I'm trying to say is . . . I don't know, you're just putting more pressure on yourself now. Since you left Barry, you've just had your eyes on the prize. You want _the _one instead of just anyone. And that's okay! But if you keep insulting the clothing of every guy I know, we are gonna run out of prospects here!"

"Maybe," Rachel answered, still a bit distracted. She sighed, pondering on whether Phoebe was right or note. "Maybe I should just go to bed, and think about how much my life sucks," she groaned.

"Your life does not suck. Look, you'll meet that guy one day. You won't be single forever! You just gotta loosen up a bit, Rach."

"I don't know. Maybe it's good for me to be single now, you know? I mean, it's freeing! I can do whatever I want, be wherever I want, go anywhere I feel like! And, hey, we can hang out more! Connect and have girl nights, just like we used to!"

Phoebe looked guilty a moment. "Actually, I was going to tell you. Eric asked me if I wanted to be serious with him last night. And I kinda said yes."

"Phoebs!", Rachel whined. "I cannot believe you have a boyfriend now, and I don't!" She stomped her foot.

"What are you, five? Anyway, I'm going to bed now. Come get me if you want me to burn some incense to help you sleep." As she was getting up, she stopped and looked at Rachel, mulling something over in her mind. "Clarity," she said, coming to a decision.

"What?"

"I should burn you the clarity incense!"

-----

As Rachel pulled back her covers to get into bed, she shut off the radio she'd been listening to. As the notes faded into the darkness that surrounded the room, Rachel quickly put out the incense Phoebe had insisted she burn, and collapsed into her pillow. She loved nighttime. Any day that felt terrible, it always felt like everything would be renewed at night.

Drawing the covers closely around her, she thought about what Phoebe had said earlier. Sure, she had boyfriends all the time before Barry. Tony DeMarco, Pete Carney, Billy Dreskin. All of them fun guys, alright for the moment. But none of them ever felt the way Rachel was always told love would feel. With Barry, there was stability. There was financial support. But there was no _passion. _There was barely even friendship. And ever since realizing that, it was like she shut herself off to men. There was something wrong with everyone, now.

So here she was, 27 years old and still feeling like a lost girl right out of college. No direction in life, and even less in love.

Groaning in frustration, she buried her face in her pillow, too angry with her current life to bother thinking about it more.

-----

The next morning, Rachel woke up bright and early for work. She was growing into completely loathing her job- being an assistant buyer just wasn't her thing. When she applied for the position, she thought it would be great. She would be _shopping_- and getting paid for it! But, as it turned out, shopping isn't as fun when you're not actually shopping for yourself. Who wants to help a bunch of old women pick out thongs? Especially when they don't even end up buying them.

She stepped into the shower, hoping that the warm water might make her feel a bit better. She often woke up like this in the mornings- worried and anxious about her future. Mostly because she wasn't sure she saw one for herself. She dreaded finding out that, in ten years, she would be stuck at the same job, still throwing men out the window as if she were picking paint colors. Everything had just gotten _so_ cloudy since the Barry fiasco. She sighed, rubbing her shoulders as she tried to empty her mind.

When she finished, she stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and stood in front of her wall-length mirror. She analized her image- bright, cobalt blue eyes, reddish-brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, small waist, lean legs. She used to have men all over her. But lately, it was like she was someone else. OR maybe she just saw through all those men.

Sighing, she dressed and dried her hair, retreating to the kitchen for a light breakfast before heading off to Bloomingdale's. She found Phoebe up- surprisingly- munching on a bowl of cereal while reading the New York Times.

"Anything interesting?", Rachel asked disinterestly, as she prepared some cereal for herself.

"No, I'm reading the obituaries. Just to double check."

Rachel rolled her eyes, smiling at her best friend's odd tendencies. Even after knowing her for nine years, Rachel was still always amused by Phoebe's endless strange beliefs and customs. Not to mention the guitar-playing and dismal songs.

"You okay?", she asked, suddenly. "It's feeling a bit murky around you."

"Yeah," Rachel replied, taking a seat across from Phoebe. "I guess."

"Still the same problem as it always is? Barry?"

"Barry's not the problem!", Rachel exclaimed, exhasperated. "It never was just him. It's not like I want him back or anything- I didn't love him! It's just . . . why has it been so hard for me since him? Why _do _I cast away all men? What's wrong with me?"

"You just know what you want, now," Phoebe replied, all-knowingly. "Like I said last night, you're not just in it for kicks or sex or whatever. You want whatever you didn't find with Barry."

"Ah, sex," she replied, sighing with nostalgia. "Tell me, what's that like now?"

"Oh come on, don't give me that. When was the last time you had sex?"

"A little while ago . . . six months." She looked down, embarrassed. "God, cause that's not pathetic. No wonder I've been such a tight-ass."

"It'll happen for you, Rach. Some great guy is, like, gonna come out of nowhere. Someone you'd never expect. But you'll find it."

"I don't know, maybe I should just be single for a while. I've gotta figure out what the hell I'm gonna do with my own life before I go messing up someone else's." She glanced at the clock. "Well, it's off to work."

"While you're there, could you get me the obituaries from the Post?"

-----

Rachel sat at the desk in one of the back-rooms at Bloomingdale's, her feet propped up on the desk as she read some odd fashion magazine. She twirled her hair around one finger, blew a bubble in her gum, and turned the page. Just one more day, and it would be the weekend . . .

"Rachel?", she heard the snooty British voice of her boss call out. She groaned.

"Yes, Mr. Waltham?"

"I've got a new client for you, here," he answered, leading in a young man behind him. Rachel sized him up, assuming him to be maybe 28 or 29. Medium height, lean build, sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes. Pre-Barry, she would have killed for a man like this.

"Luke," he offered, holding out his hand. She faked a bright, cheery smile- a technique she'd mastered since obtaining this job- and accepted it.

"I'm Rachel Green. Now, what kind of clothes around you looking for?" . . .

Three hours, four suits, eight pairs of slacks, and countless dress shirts later, Rachel found herself back on the sidewalk, looking for a taxi. Work was demanding, but somehow, it wasn't even her job that bothered her the most today. It was this Luke guy. Being so sweet, and even cracking little jokes. What did he want? What did he have to be so damn happy about?

And the way he acted at the end of it. "Here's my card"? Did he really think she was going to call him?

"Geez," she thought to herself. "Maybe I should give this 'staying single' thing a try."

Finally hailing a cab, Rachel seriously considered this idea. It _would _take some of the pressure off her. Rather than try to get her over-all happy ending, she could focus on everything else now. Like her job, or her continuing dependency on other people. She should try to figure out things by herself, and then, who knows? Maybe some amazing man would just walk into her life. Maybe all she needed to do was stop looking for him.

By the time she reached her apartment, she made her decision. She wasn't going to seek out that perfect man anymore. No blind dates, no checking guys out. If someone wanted her, he could ask her himself. And if he didn't feel right, then she didn't have to say yes. She didn't even have to flirt anymore.

. . . Well, maybe just a little flirting.

As she entered the front room, she saw Phoebe was already back from her own job, deeply absorbed in a television program.

"Somebody's got a skip in her step," she observed. "Did you meet a guy?"

"Nope," Rachel answered. "I am swingin' single, and that's fine with me!"

Phoebe watched, amazed, as Rachel disappeared into her bedroom, a grin plastered across her face.

"We'll see how long that lasts," Phoebe sarcastically quipped to no one, returning her attention to the television.

* * *

I know, I know, this chapter has no Ross. But like I said, it's more focusing in Rachel. I wanted to use the first chapter to give you an idea of who she is, and where she is with her life at this point. Ross will come, I promise! Oh, and don't be shy- reviews are much appreciated! 


	2. Chapter 2

Something Like Love

Eh, I've realized that this fic is quite predictable, whether you've seen the movies it's based off or not. You all know where this is headed, lol. But hopefully it's entertaining enough to keep you interested. I'm actually having a lot of fun writing it, it's a bit more chill than my last fic. Plus, it's the first time in a looong time that I've written chapters two nights in a row! Haha. Well, it's also the beginning of the fic. Let's see how I'm handling it when I get around chapter 6 or 7, haha. But anyways, please review and tell me how you're liking it :-) I realize reviews for Friends fics have been scarce lately, which is understandable, considering the show ended almost three years ago. But still, there's always tons of views to the chapters, and people who put stories as favorites or on their alert list who never review :-P Come on, you guys! Haha

Oh yeah, and just so everyone knows, I have no idea how New York City is laid out. I might write about a certain- what are they called, burrows? Neighborhoods? Anyway. I've never been to NYC, and frankly, hearing about it all confuses me. What places are in Manhatten? Is Long Island a town or something bigger, cause there's different places inside that. I just don't understand it! I'm from Chicago, and let me tell you, you're either downtown or not. Sure, the neighborhoods have names. But, I mean, the city is just the city! I go by street, there aren't all these little areas. At least to my knowledge lol. So, to me, NYC is completely confusing. So sorry for any mistakes I make or might have made before lol

* * *

"Phoebe, where are we going again?" 

Rachel stared disdainfully at the windows of quaint little shops as she followed her best friend down the street. Somehow, Phoebe had talked her into tagging along to some odd store in Greenwich Village. Normally, Rachel didn't like to venture out of the East Side. She was used to relatively clean(ish) streets, looming buildings full of luxurious apartments and condos, and upscale restaurants and botiques. There was something so . . . _common_ about the Village. It didn't help that Phoebe had to park her grandmother's old cab about five blocks from wherever it was she was taking Rachel.

"That book store I told you about, remember? It has this _great_ section on oracles. Oh, and a do-it-yourself book about socks!"

Rachel groaned in protest, but nevertheless continuing after Phoebe. She flipped her silky, reddish hair over her shoulder, casting nervous glances at the people she passed. These people looked you in the eye when they passed you. They _smiled_. What the hell was that about?

And as she rounded a corner, she glanced at a coffee shop they passed. "Central Perk"? How did this name not make people gag on their scones?

"Oh, here it is!", Phoebe exclaimed, as they came upon a rather large bookstore. As Phoebe led the way inside, Rachel tentatively trailed behind, letting the door slam shut behind her. Everywhere, people were browsing aisles of every kind of book, eating muffins and drinking coffee and the small cafe in the corner, absorbed in their reading or just simply hanging out.

"Um, Phoebs, where do we-", but by the time Rachel turned around, her friend's bright hair and smile was no where to be found. "- go to the bathroom . . .?" she trailed out to no one. Shrugging, she decided that she might as well peruse the store while she was here. There had to be a magazine aisle, right?

As she walked down the main area, she glanced down the aisles fleeting past. She finally spotted Phoebe, who had become immersed in some book about ancient voodoo. "Oh, this is good stuff," she heard Phoebe mumble to herself. Rachel continued on her way, leaving Phoebe to read her book.

When she reached the back wall of the store, she looked around, confused. What were these? Books about _brontosauruses? _Had she accidentally stumbled in the "I'll Never Be Read- Ever" section? Ah, there the magazines were. Somehow jumbled into the other half of the wall-length bookshelves. As she scanned the front covers of People and Cosmo, something caught the corner of her eye.

The once vacant natural science section now held a single young man. Pretending to be disinterested, she secretly watched this boy as he regarded every book title on the shelves he browsed, either looking for something specific or simply being enamored by the . . . dinosaurs? But she took note of him, anyways. He had tan skin, dark hair, and seemingly dark eyes that he kept averted downwards. His hand fumbled nervously with something in his pocket, his leg jiggling beneath him.

Rachel was snapped out of her study of this stranger by an older, but noticably attractive woman, making her way down the shelves. She saw the man glance up at her as she passed, his eyes follow her until she turned a corner. Then, unexpectantly, he turned his head to survey the rest of the aisle, catching her "accidentally" sizing him up. For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Blushing, she turned quickly away, pretending to be incredibly interested in this month's Allure. So his eyes _were_ dark, she thought. A deep but warm brown. Vaguely familiar, though she couldn't place them or him. She would need to take another look.

As she peripherally glanced at him again, she saw him looking at her again. Or maybe still looking at her. He seemed to be trying to figure something out, but she didn't know what. So she offered him a small, timid smile, before returning her focus to the fashion magazines. She felt the presence of someone next to her, so she looked up, excepting to see Phoebe. But it was the young man.

"Um, Rachel? Rachel Green?", he asked, almost embarrassed to be talking to her.

"Yes . . .", she answered, cautiously. "Have we met?"

"It's me, Ross Geller. Remember?"

That was it! Ross, Monica's older brother. The boy who used to follow her around any time she paid a visit to the Gellar household during her teenage years. Her best friend's nerdy older brother, with the afro, mustache, and keyboard . . . _this_ was the same guy?

"Oh wow . . . hi!", was all she could offer him. She shook his hand enthusiastically, gaping with astonishment at him. Man, with the perm long gone, the face cleanly shaved, and buffer build, she never would have guessed it was him.

"Yeah, how are you?", he asked, smiling with renewed confidence at her reaction.

"I'm good, I'm good," she answered. "Uh yeah, I actually work at Bloomingdale's now, for about three years. I'm an assistant buyer."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "And what is that?"

"I'm sort of like, a, uh," she cleared her throat. "Personal shopper, I guess. I help people . . . buy stuff, and what not." She decided to side-step a reaction to her dead-end job by immediately asking him questions. "What about you, huh? How've you been?"

"Um, good," he answered, though a bit hesitantly. "Great. Yeah, I work at the museum downtown. I'm a paleontologist now, just got my phD three years ago."

"Wow," she tried, not quite knowing what paleontology was, but not jumping at the chance to find out. "Good for you. How's Monica?"

"Oh, she's been really good, actually. She's working as the head chef at Alessandro's now, you should go check it out."

"I haven't been there since . . .", she racked her brain. Oh yeah, that date with . . . whatshisname. Doesn't-tuck-his-undershirt-in. Anyways. " . . .a long time."

"Yep, well, she's really good. She's engaged now, actually."

"No way! To who?"

"Chandler Bing, do you remember him? He was my roommate in college, had the Flock Of Seagulls haircut?"

Try as she might, Rachel could not paint the image of this man in her mind. Was he that awkward boy at those Thanksgivings, who told bad jokes to ease any tension? The one who's toe was accidentally chopped off by Monica? The one who she- gulp!- made out with at that college party? She decided that she really wasn't interested.

"Yeah. Well, that's great for her. You should tell her I said hi, I haven't talked to her in ages."

"I will," he said, smiling widely. She noticed him glance past her, scanning the tables at the cafe. She didn't make a connection from that to anything, she was more trying to understand something in her mind. Ross was making her feel very nervous, but in an unfamiliar way. She felt a bit sick to her stomach for a moment, and hoped that Phoebe would randomly appear sometime soon. This sensation was really baffling her, and she wasn't quite sure if she liked it or not.

"Sooo," he drew out, filling the silence that fell upon them. "Do you want to, I don't know, grab a coffee over there?", he asked, indicating one of the vacant tables behind her. "We could catch up some more, or something . . ."

Somehow, she almost mechanically accepted. But then she stopped herself. What was she doing? She had set her mind a few days before that she was going to be _single_ now. She needed to put attention on herself for a while. Plus, she suddenly found herself feeling really fidgety and almost embarrassed, like she was some high school girl. Must just be a blast from the past that Ross was bringing out of her . . . but wait. She never felt like that in high school. She was head cheerleader, for cripes sake! She never got flustered in front of a boy. So she shook her head to snap herself out of it.

"Sorry, I can't," she lamented, feigning sympathy. She almost- _almost_- wished that she hadn't taken this solitary path. She really would like to learn how Monica had been the past few years, but just couldn't get herself to say yes. She didn't like having a guy see her like this. "I, um, have this thing, you know." She winced as she saw his face fall.

The answer to a prayer, Phoebe popped up beside Rachel, her arms full of random books.

"I found what I was looking for and more! I mean, look at this- it _teaches_ you how to make your own shoelaces!"

"With my friend!", Rachel added to her excuse, throwing an arm around Phoebe's waist affectionately. "Yeah, and we really can't be late. So I'm sorry, but maybe another time."

Trying to muster up one last ounce of courage, Ross grabbed his wallet from the back pocket of his cargo pants, slipping a business card out. "Well, um, here's my card. My cell number's on the back. Maybe, uh, give me a call when you can."

Funny, this wasn't nearly as annoying as that guy she helped at the store the other day. She gladly accepted the card with a grin. "Yeah. I'll see you around, Ross."

"It was nice seeing you, Rach." They shook hands again, as he turned away, decending down past the various aisles.

"And why we doing turning this guy down? Was his belt buckled on the wrong notch?", Phoebe asked sarcastically.

-----

"He was just this guy I used to know when I was younger," Rachel explained to Phoebe, as they got in Phoebe's cab to drive home. "Remember when I used to talk about Monica Geller? Well, that's her older brother."

"The one with the weird crush on you?"

"Yeah, that's the one. We all grew up in Long Island, you know. God, I haven't seen them in ages! I really wonder what Monica is like now. She used to be pretty fat," Rachel put bluntly.

"Well, it sure didn't seem like he's over you," Phoebe said, turning her head to look out the window. "He was definitely giving you 'the look'."

Rachel squinted her eyes in confusion. "Huh?" Phoebe nodded. "I haven't seen him for eight or nine years! And lots of guys give 'the look', Phoebs."

"Yeah, but I've never seen you return it before today."

Sitting in silence for a moment, Rachel noticed that they were nearing their building. "I'm staying single now, remember?", she finally broke the silence.

"Uh-huh, sure," Phoebe deadpanned, shaking her head over-exuberantly to prove her point. "I'm going to check the mail," she noted as they entered the lobby, veering off to the mailroom as Rachel continued her way to the elevators. She was just settling down onto the couch to read the issue of Vogue she'd ended up buying, as Phoebe made her way into the apartment.

"Junk, bills, flyer," she remarked as she filtered through the mail. "Oh here, Rach- one for you. Looks fancy."

Rachel took the envelope out of Phoebe's extended hand, reading the front. The return address didn't have a name on top of it, but it was from a familiar place in Long Island. She ripped it open to find gold confetti spilling out on her lap, and an extravagant wedding invitation inside.

"You and a guest are cordially invited to the joyous union of Barry Farber and Mindy Sterling," she read out loud. "Oh my God, Barry and Mindy are getting married!"

"Mindy-your-old-best-friend, Mindy?"

"Yeah, they began dating, remember? He had cheated on me with her! I cannot believe she's marrying that sleazeball!"

"Well, are you going to go?"

"My mom will probably make me," she whined. Curiously, she reread the invitation, her eyes now catching a specific part. "Dammit!"

"What?"

" 'You and a _guest_.' "


	3. Chapter 3

Something Like Love

**A/N: **Wow, so I'm tired as hell right now. I almost titled this "Feels Like Tonight" out of habit, haha. I'm freezing too. Blaaah. But anyways, lol. Thanks for the really great reviews! Seriously, I was having like a shitty-ass day yesterday and I signed in and saw that I had some new reviews, and I like instantly felt better. Not even kidding :-P So thanks a ton. And to answer someone's questions... Joey's not gonna play a part in this fic. There is a mention of him in this chapter but that's probably as much as there's gonna be. And the "Flock of Seagulls" haircut is what Chandler's hair was like in the 80's. Have you ever seen TOW All The Thanksgivings? The 1987 flashback, when he first meets Monica and Rachel, that's when he has the hair. Flock of Seagulls was a band :-)

So here's chapter 3, and I'm like half done with chapter 4 right now so that should be coming in a few days. I'm cranking this baby out, haha. Its kinda nice, I'm soo glad I didnt write some big drama. Those take too much thinking haha. This is so nice and breezy, I get my chapters done real quick :-P

Please drop a review and make my day again! haha

* * *

Phoebe stared blankly at her. 

"Um, so?"

"And a guest! _And a guest!!_" Phoebe was still not comphrehending. Sighing loudly with frustration, Rachel attempted to explain. "That means a _date_, Phoebs. I don't have a boyfriend! I was supposed to stay single now, remember?"

"So take me," Phoebe offered, a little annoyed by Rachel's panicking. She left to prepare some food in the kitchen, but Rachel followed her.

"Ugh, you don't get it," she insisted. "That's not what 'and a guest' means, not when it's coming from this group of people. I've told you about Mindy, right? How she cheated on me with Barry and _still_ married the pig?"

"I've met the bitch, Rach, so this is nothing new."

"Well, I know her, and this is her chance to rub her happiness in my face! Inviting me '_and a guest_' secretly means, 'Show up single and you'll never live it down. Show up with the wrong guy, and I'll tear him apart.' She just wants to show me how she got my leftovers, and everything I'm missing! God, and I bet Barry's in on it too. I _so_ wouldn't put it past him."

"Then don't go, Rach! Geez, at least take some meds or _something._"

"I can't _not_ go. I mean, I could try, but someone's gonna make me. Someone always does. I'm gonna give my mom a call . . ." Distractedly, she left Phoebe alone in the kitchen to go find the phone. She dialed the numbers against her will- she never was one to call home- and waited as it rang a few times.

"Hello?"

Rachel paused a moment at Sandra Green's voice, dreading the conversation that was to come. "Hi, mom. It's me."

"Rachel, darling! I haven't heard from you in weeks. How are you?"

"Oh, just peachy," she fibbed. "You?"

"I'm great, you know. Going to the gym more often. Now that I don't have to trail after your father at the golf course, I get so much more time to myself!". Rachel's parents had divorced a few years earlier, ultimately shattering Rachel's idea of her picture-perfect family. She had moved past it, but was still perturbed by her parent's enthusiastic zeal at the free time. Well, that and the fact that it didn't even seem to surprise her sisters. "So, have you gotten your invitation to Barry and Mindy's wedding, yet?"

"Yeah. Actually, that's why I'm calling-"

"It's just going to be a lovely affair!", Sandra interrupted. "And think of this, you can show yourself off to Barry. Show him what he missed out on! You can flaunt your boyfriend in front of his face!". Sandra Green _was _always one for showing off.

"Ma, listen, they invited me and a _guest_-"

"Well, sweetie, you do have a boyfriend, don't you?" At this point, Phoebe curiously trailed into the room to listen in. Rachel shot her a worried glance as she held the phone tightly, knowing her mom would grow suspicious at this suspended silence. "Rachel?"

"Sure, mom! Of course I have a boyfriend, _duh_!", she laughed nervously. Phoebe shot her a 'what are you doing?!' look, but all Rachel could return was a panicked shrug.

"Well, then it'll all be fine! I've got to go now, dear. Jill is insisting on going car shopping today." Jill, the youngest of the three Green girls, was just out of high school and still living with her parents, with no plans of college or even moving out. Rachel rolled her eyes, now anxiously pacing around the room.

"Alright, mom. I guess I'll see you at the, um," she gulped,"wedding?"

"Sounds great, Rachel. I can't wait to meet your boyfriend, I'm sure he's an upstanding gentleman. Give me a ring more often, we don't chat nearly as much! I love you and tell Phoebe I say hello."

"Yeah, bye ma."

As Rachel returned the phone to it's base, she turned to face a shocked and confused Phoebe.

"Why did you tell her that??"

"I don't know!", Rachel loudly admitted, making her way to her bedroom with Phoebe hot on her heels. "I just panicked! What was I gonna say, huh? 'Gee, mom, I've pretty much been single for the past three years, and I decided to focus on _myself_ now.' " Rachel held her hands out in frustration. "That would give her a heart attack! She already doesn't understand why I need to have a job."

As she reached her bed, she exhaled loudly, crashing onto the mattress. She lay on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow.

"What am I going to do?"

"I don't know," Phoebe replied, leaning against the doorway. "But I suggest you get a date, and _fast_."

-----

Rachel sighed, hanging up a suit coat on the "reject" rack. She glanced in the mirror to her side, watching as Luke tried an identical coat in a different size. He was cute, she had to admit, and there was something about the way he'd come back. Almost like he came back to see her.

Her mind had been drifting since the previous night, the screws and wheels turning. What was she going to do about this wedding thing? She had no boyfriend, no slight prospects . . . she turned around to face Luke. _Why_ wasn't she attracted to him? It was really beginning to make her angry. He was nice, sweet, funny, and he obviously liked her. But she just couldn't get herself to feel anything. Had she just closed up completely the past few years?

"Hey Luke," she called out randomly. He turned around from his position in front of the mirror, waiting for her to finish. "Would you like to . . ." No, she couldn't do it. "See our selection of socks?", she lamely finished with.

"No thanks, I'm good there," he replied, and winked before going to the dressing room to change.

She smacked herself on the forehead. As much as she knew she needed a date, she didn't want to give this poor guy false hope. And she didn't feel like she knew him enough to actually tell him about her situation. No use scaring someone off who's innocent.

Why did life have to be so goddamn complicated?

-----

"Did you ask him?", Phoebe asked the second Rachel walked into their apartment. Looking defeated, worn, and a bit angry, Rachel hung her shoulders.

"No," she whined. "I couldn't do it! I can't just use someone like that."

"Well, if I recall-"

"No stories, Phoebs!", she interrupted. Collapsing onto the couch, she threw her roommate a pleading look. "Do you have _any_ ideas? I mean, I can't just get some random date and lead them on!"

"Then hire someone," Phoebe suggested, after a moment of silent pondering. Rachel squinted her eyes as she considered the option.

"Like how?"

"Just tell someone what's going on, and offer them some money to pretend they're your boyfriend for the weekend. What harm could it do? I mean, you might have to put out a bit to get them to agree, but-"

"I am not sleeping with someone just to get what I want!"

"You know, I might just pull up some old stories whether you like it or not."

Rachel sighed with defeat, because Phoebe was right. She didn't exactly find comfort in her past. She was pretty much the epitomy of the high school head cheerleader- selfish, bitchy, got any guy she wanted. Maybe a bit promiscuous with some guys, but who was counting? It was her past and, while it was a part of her, it was a part she tried not to return to.

"Who would I ask?", she ended up questioning Phoebe.

"Hmm. Well, I have this friend- Joey Tribbiani. He'd probably do it!" She thought for a moment. "Oh, wait. You might_ have _to put out for that one."

"Phoebs, I'n not gonna just ask some random guy. It's gotta be someone I know really well, someone who knows me and would be willing to help me. And, come to think of it, I really don't know any guys like that."

"I'd lend you Eric, but we're actually going to his parents' place in the Hamptons that weekend."

"Whatever. I'll figure something out."

Rachel got up to go retreat to her bedroom, hoping for a nice nap. Maybe she'd hit the town tonight, try to drown her worries away in some dirti martinis for a few hours. But she was met with a pile of dirty laundry calling out her name. Groaning, she walked over to throw it all into her laundry bag. As she emptied the pockets of her jeans from the day before, her hand met the edge of a card. Confused, she pulled it out and read it:

- Dr. Ross Geller, phD -

Paleontology Department,

New York Museum of Natural History

Office Phone: 555-8257

And scribbled on the back of the card, in small but concise handwriting:

Home # 555-9847

Cell # 555-3160

"Oh my God!", she let out loudly, rushing to Phoebe's room with the card in hand. "Ross Geller!", she yelled.

"Huh?", said Phoebe, looking up from a book.

"Ross! He gave me his home and cell numbers, I can call and ask_ him_!"

"Just what a guy wants to hear from a girl they used to have a crush on- 'Hey, can I pay you to _pretend _to be my boyfriend?' " Phoebe shot Rachel a look that read "yeah, right".

"Will you stop it, he does _not _still like me. High school was ten years ago! I've barely seen him! Get over it!" Taking a breath, Rachel explained herself. "Okay, look. He's someone I know," she said, counting off on her fingers. "He's someone I have a history with . . . sort of. He's someone I would trust. He's too nice to say no. Come on, he's perfect! I know he'd do this favor for me, I used to practically live at his house!"

"When you weren't out making fun of him," Phoebe reminded. Rachel's face fell with guilt. "Look, I guess, if you think he'd be up for it, then give it a try. You have nothing to lose, really. Anyway, he probably would say yes, seeing as he's _in love_ with you," she teased.

"He is not," Rachel replied, though she knew Phoebe was only joking. "I think I'm gonna give him a call. No harm trying, right?" Phoebe nodded, returning her attention to her book. Rachel smiled to herself with satisfaction as she turned to return to her room. She set Ross's card next to the phone on her nightstand, so she would remember it first thing tomorrow morning.

Ross had to say yes, right? Rachel knew he adored her when they were younger, and she knew that she hadn't exactly treated him well in return. But still, hadn't he basically asked her out at the bookstore? He _had_ to say yes.

Plus, with the way he looked now, an evening with him might not be a total bust.

So she turned out her night, finally at peace with her plight. She would call Ross tomorrow, set something up, and have this problem figured out by the weekend. Then all she had left to do would be the wedding itself. Piece of cake. Plus, something about the prospect of talking to Ross again excited her. She didn't exactly know why, but it did.

With the smile still present on her face, she pulled the covers up around her, eagerly awaiting the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

Something Like Love

**A/N: **Hola! Yayy so I've been very happy with this fic, cause I'm writing it fast and I keep figuring out the story line and little details I want everywhere. Hehe you should see, I have this sheet in a random notebook FULL of notes about what I want to happen, and little ideas and jokes and details for here and there. I never did that before, so a lot of things I've thought about for other fics were forgotten when I got around to writing it. But I know everything I think of for this is something I really want, so I'm not letting that happen.

And alright, I just wanted to answer one of the reviews. Someone felt that I spent too long on the "and a guest" ordeal. And I understand that it might have been your first reaction, but I'm just going to disagree a bit. Even if she wasn't self centered, Rachel was always one to panic and blow things out of proportion. So I'm trying hard to stay true to Rachel, as I always have, because she is really one of my favorite characters, and the one I've always identified myself with in many ways, so its something I dont want to get wrong. And I didn't use this chapter to get Ross and Rachel together because, well, I'm sick of the short fics. I want one to last. And also, like I said in the intro to chapter one, this fic focuses mostly on Rachel. It's her journey, sort of her coming-of-age. She may have been interested in Ross, but she's trying to figure out her own life (and by her focusing on herself, I don't mean in a selfish way. I mean in a 'let me figure out what's going on in my life' way.) She wants to work out her own life, so she pushed him to the backburner. Oh, and as you'll see in this chapter, she's not _really_using him :-) This may be closer to the season 1 Rachel, but I don't want to present her as super-bitch haha.

Oh yeah, and Ross is being kept a bit more mysterious in this fic on purpose. Like I said, I wanted it to be more from Rachel's side. You'll just have to wait and see, but you _will _find out more. With the way I'm going to write it, you're going to find out everything along with Rachel in the story.

I know, I haven't gotten review-defensive since "Your Ad Here" haha, but I just like to explain myself. There's not much in my fics I don't do on purpose, I usually have a reason behind it, and things planned out. I don't want to offend anyone, its just my thoughts on your opinions.

But I do have to say, you guys have been awesome with the reviews! 20 for the first three chapters is like amazing for me haha, keep them coming! Thanks a lot!

* * *

She paced back and forth, back and forth. How many times she'd walked the length of the dressing room only to walk it again, she'd never know. She was silmultaneously shifting her gaze from her cell phone resting in one hand, and Ross's business card in the other. How the hell was she going to explain herself over the phone? Should she do it in person?

Was it even worth the try?

Suddenly, her phone rang, causing her to jump and let out a small scream. She then darted her eyes around the room, and seeing that no one was there, rolled her eyes at her own actions. Reading the name, she saw that the call was coming from Phoebe's massage place. She flipped the phone open to answer.

"Yes, Phoebs?"

"Call him already!", she heard Phoebe yell exubrantly on the other end.

"Wha- how did you know I haven't called him??"

"Cause I know you! Look, I have a client in about 30 seconds, so I'm going. But just give it a shot!"

Before Rachel could respond, she was already met my the dial tone. As she drew the phone away from her ear, she stared at it through narrow eyes. Leave it to Phoebe to cut to the core of her problems. But she was right, anyway. She almost always was.

With a shaky hand, she proceeded to try him at home first. After a few suspended rings, she was met by his answering machine.

"Hi, you've reached Ross Geller-"

She hung up. As much as she didn't want to bother him by calling his cell, she didn't really see any other way. So she dialed, waiting through a few shorter rings that felt like a lifetime. She was once again met with his voicemail, though this one being a bit more relaxed and informal than his home message.

"Hey, it's Ross, leave me a quick message and I'll get back to ya."

_Beep._

It took Rachel a second to remember she had to say something.

"Oh! Ross, it's um, me, Rachel. Rachel Green? Listen, I was just wondering if maybe-", don't do it in a message, _please_ don't do it in a message,"- you'd like to meet me for coffee or something. I kind of have something to, uh, ask you. Just a favor. But, if you could give me a call back, I'd really appreciate it."

She left him her cell and home numbers, finally hitting the "end" button. She continued to stare at the phone a few second after hanging it up. She then shook her head, snapping out of it. No use worrying over something that wasn't happening this second, right? So she simply returned to her desk, retrieving an issue of Vanity Fair from her drawer. Minutes later, the ring on her phone scared the hell out of her again.

She furrowed her brow as she read the name. Ross? He was calling her back already? But hadn't she . . .

Before she could think through it, she mechanically answered. "Hello?"

"Rachel? It's, uh, Ross. Geller", he tacked onto the end, just to be sure. She noticed how he sounded a bit nervous, which comforted her for some strange reason. At least she wasn't the only one a bit rattled by this seemingly random exchange.

"Oh, hey. Wow, I like just called you."

"Yeah, I was giving a lecture, sorry. But, um, what did you need?"

She took a deep breath, mulling things over in her mind. "Actually, could we meet somewhere? I think it might be better if I explain myself in person, you know. It would be kind of weird over the phone."

"Uh, yeah, sure. When are you free?"

"Well, I've already taken my lunch break today. We could meet tonight, or . . ."

"Tonight's not good," he answered automatically. She wondered why, seeing as he didn't give an explanation, but obviously had one. He just wasn't quick to give it out. So she sidestepped the issue.

"Okay, well, how about tomorrow? My break's around twelve."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Where do you want to meet? Cause, if you want, I know this great coffee shop in the Village."

"Uh, sure."

-----

Rachel stepped out of the cap, making a face at her surroundings. Two trips to the Village in one week- this was certainly something new. She took a deep breath, looking through the glass doors of the place she was meeting Ross. Central Perk. Maybe the name wasn't as bad as she initially thought. It was charming, even, in a common sort of way. She made her way in, ordering coffee from the bright-haired man at the counter (who's stare lingered uncomfortably longer than she felt it should have), and settled into a table in the back.

After a few short minutes, she saw Ross enter the shop. He nodded his head in recognition to some other guy with dark hair sitting on the orange couch on the other side of the shop. But instead of joining him, he scanned the room for Rachel. When his eyes met her, she waved, a nervous smile on her face. He smiled back and made his way towards her.

"Hey there," she said, standing up to greet him.

"Hi."

There was an awkward, suspended silence as both realized that they didn't know just what to do. It seemed too informal for a handshake, but not quite at the hug level. So instead, they both just chuckled with anxiety and sat down.

"So, um, what's the favor you needed?", Ross asked, a bit shyly.

"Oh, well, um," she cleared her throat nervously. "Alright, I'm gonna sound like a complete freak but I figured that you're someone I know, sort of, and maybe you won't be so quick to judge me. And please don't," She added quickly at the end.

"Uh, okay . . .", he answered cautiously, more than a little curious about what she would ask him.

"Yeah. Well, a few years ago, I almost got married. And I, uh, kinda ran out on him." She paused a moment to take in his face. He just looked pretty shocked, but wondering what this could possibly have to do with him. She continued. "And well, I guess he cheated on me with my ex-best friend or whatever."

"Oh, Rach, I'm so sorry," he interjected, a look of true concern on his face. She took notice, and almost blushed a bit. He seemed to actually _care_.

"No, it's fine, this was like three years ago. And, well, you know, I'm not married to him!" She chuckled a bit, showing him her bare ring finger before returning to her story. "But anyways. They're getting married now, and invited me to the wedding. Well, me and a guest." To say she didn't notice his eyebrows raise in surprise at this would be an understatement. "And I've been single for a while, you know, my own choice. Trying to figure out . . .me. But, I kind of can't show up alone because they're expecting me to be with someone, and I told my mom I had a boyfriend, and-"

"Rachel?", he cut in, ending her mile-a-minute explanation. "Are you asking me to . . .be your fake date?" He seemed a bit confused and unsure of the conclusion he's drawn.

"Yes!", she replied, a little more enthusiastic than she would have liked. "Listen, it's just one night with my family, and maybe a cocktail party the night before. It's all on the Upper East Side, and I know you live in the Village, so if you need, you can stay with my. My roommate will be out, so her room will be empty, and of course I'd pay you-"

"You, you don't have pay me. I don't want your money."

She looked at him, concealing the fact that her face had dropped a bit. "Oh. Um, so is that a, uh . . .no?"

"No, no," he assured her. "I have, uh, nothing wrong with going on a date with you." Realizing how what he just said sounded, he quickly added, "A pretend date!"

She let out a relieved laugh. "Oh, God, really? I was so scared that you were gonna think I was asking you to be a gigalo or something, and I'm totally not! It would just be harmless. It's the night of April 25th. You meet my parents, I can show you off in front of Barry and Mindy, and that's it! I can come up with some story that we broke up or something later on."

She couldn't really read his face. He seemed to accept her proposal, but he seemed almost disappointed. But what about, she had no idea. She decided that they didn't really know each other well enough for her to question him. Instead, she waited through the awkward silence for a reply.

"Yeah, sure," he finally answered, after some deliberation. "Why not? I mean, I can see you need help, so-"

"Oh my God, thank you!", she shrieked, so happy that she bounded up out of her seat. He quickly got up to follow suit, and without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much," she repeated, feeling his arms tentatively wrap around her back to return the hug. She squeezed him tightly before letting go, a bit embarrassed with her outburst, but thankful nonetheless.

"Hey, it's, um, no problem," he assured, coming out of the unexpected embrace. "Really."

Still beaming at him, she glanced down at the watch on her wrist. Christ, was it really already one o'clock?

"Geez, my lunch break ended ten minutes ago," she noted. "How about I give you a call about all of this? We can set it all up. Maybe you should come, like, a few days early so we can get to know each other. I mean, how convincing are we gonna be if we don't?"

"Yeah," he answered, still seemingly in a bit of a daze. But the sparkle in his eyes hinted that he was a bit amused by all of this. "You wanna give me your number? Just in case?"

"Oh, sure," she said, getting out a pen and scribbling her cell and home numbers on a napkin from the table. As she handed it to him, she looked him in the eye. "Really, Ross, thank you for all of this. I know it's a lot to ask."

"Like I said, it's nothing, really." She smiled up at him, wondering how they should say goodbye. Handshake? Another awkward hug that made her look like an idiot? Instead, she opted for simple words.

"I better get going. So I'll talk to you?"

"Yeah, just give me a call when you've got it all figured out." She nodded in reply.

"Good." They began moving towards the door. "I guess I'll see you, then."

"Yeah, been nice seeing you, you know. Again."

He smiled at her one more time, before turning outside the door and descending down the block. He must not have lived far from here, she mused, as she lifted her hand in the air to flag a cab. But when she noticed it veer violently in it's lane change, she realized it was Phoebe.

"How do you do that?", she asked, shaking her head in amusement at her friend as she entered the old taxi.

"I have a gift. So how did it go?"

"Can you take me back to Bloomingdale's?", she asked. As Phoebe pulled back into traffic, she answered her question. "It went fine. Surprisingly well, actually. I mean, he . . .said yes."

"Big surprise," Phoebe mumbled to herself. Rachel turned to look at her, but didn't say anything. Strangely, she didn't even want to. She was happy right now, and being happy while on the way to work was a rare occurence. Nothing was gonna wipe this smile off her face, not even snide comments from her best friend. So instead, she turned her head to look out the window as they continued into downtown in silence.

'Ross is pretty great now,' she thought to herself. 'Who would of known?'

"Someone's smiley," Phoebe noted, not even taking her eyes off the road. Rachel just shook her head, laughed a bit, and went back to daydreaming.

Somehow, things seemed to be working out. For once.


	5. Chapter 5

Something Like Love

**A/N: **So . . . due to my lack of things to say, it's time for me to talk about the adoration I hold for TOW Rachel Has A Baby. LOL. No, this has nothing to do with this chapter at all. I just watched the episode last night. See, I'm a freak (lol), so I watch like 2 episodes of Friends every night but Saturdays, and I go in order. This is my second time around, so I've just finished up season 8 again (please don't lose respect for me due to my lack of a life and the fact that when I'm not watching the show, I'm writing about it). I wont bore you by droning on and on but I always get all jittery after finishing season 8, cause its definitely a top notch season. Squeeeeee.

So anyways. Keep the reviews cominggg, cause seriously, they help a lot. Phoebe's hair dresser voice If you're not happy, we're not happy. :-P Enjoyyy

* * *

Hearing the sounds of quiet music playing, Phoebe curiously ventured out into the living room at 2 am. She found Rachel sitting, curled up, in the big, comfy armchair in the corner, her lap top set atop her thighs as she delibertly typed something that held all her attention as music softly crooned out of the speakers.

"What the hell are you doing?", Phoebe mumbled as she came nearer, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "It's two in the morning." Rachel looked up, startled, and turned her music on 'mute'.

"I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

"Eh, I was up already. Had a dream about a dragon stealing all the king's jewels from the bank." In response to the confused look Rachel shot her, she replied, "Hey, it could happen! Have you _seen_ the security there?" She came to stand beside Rachel, peering over her shoulder. "So what _are_ you doing?"

"Just typing something up for Ross. I mean, he's coming here in like two days and I haven't prepared anything. He has to know everything about me so it really seems like we're a couple. So I'm just typing this up."

Phoebe peered at the screen. "What is this, your life since you last saw him?"

"Basically. God, you never really know how boring you are until you try to explain your life to someone else."

"Why didn't you guys just meet for coffee or something?", she asked, now settling Indian-style onto the couch. "And isn't he coming a few days early, anyway?"

"Well, I've tried calling him, but we've both been really busy. You know, work and everything. So I was gonna make this so I didn't forget anything I should tell him, although I'm seeing that there's not much to forget. Well, or it's just not worth remembering." She looked a bit solemn. "He's just gonna think I'm pathetic! My life sounds so dull! What do I _do _in my free time??"

"Oh come on, Rach. When he meets you, he'll see what a great girl you really are!" Noting the embarrassed smile that spread across Rachel's face at this comment, Phoebe decided to milk this for all its worth. "So you _do_ like him," she stated, smiling knowingly.

"I do not," Rachel shot back. "Will you stop already? He's just a friend doing a favor. It's not even a real date!"

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say. I'm going back to bed now, I gotta pack tomorrow morning."

"Alright, goodnight. Oh, wait," she called before Phoebe could reach her room. "You cleaned your room out, right? No weird voodoo or anything creepy is sticking out? Cause Ross is staying in there."

"Yeah, yeah," the exhausted blonde answered, mumbling "I don't see why he can't stay on the couch," as she retreated into the room.

Rachel sighed, smiling at her roommate's predictable behavior. Maybe Phoebe was right, and this whole 'story of her life' was ridiculous. But it doesn't hurt to try, right? She saved it, shutting off the laptop and closing it. Leaving it on the chair, she slid off and continued into her own room. As she turned down her covers, she heard her cellphone beep from her bedside table, indicating that she had voice mail. She dialed in her password to listen.

"Hi, Rach, it's Ross. I'm guessing you're sleeping or something now, I'll just leave a message cause I don't want to wake you. I got a new suit for the wedding, hopefully it's all okay. It's pretty nice, but I guess I should have come to your work and you could have picked it out. But it's been pretty crazy here at the museum this week, so . . .Oh yeah, by the way, I talked to them, and since it's starting to die down here, I can actually take the next few days off of work completely. We can hang out, whatever you want.Well, I'll just see you tomorrow night. Goodnight."

She smiled to herself. He always sounded so sincere, and he wanted nothing more than to make sure this whole wedding thing went as smoothly and according to her plan as possible. He even sounded worried about the suit. She wondered why a single, 28 year old guy was so willing to please her, when nothing was seemingly in it for him. Maybe that's just the kind of guy he was now, she thought. After all, while she knew him as a child and teenager, she didn't really _know _him. Maybe he'd been like that all along. She decided to call him back.

Just as expected, it went right to voice mail. After hearing his automated message, she spoke hushly so as not to wake Phoebe.

"Hey Ross, it's me," she whispered softly. "Um, yeah it's really late- or early, for that matter- but I just got your message. I'm sure the suit is fine." Her tone reflected the smile on her face as she thought about how he voice sounded in the message. "Everything is settled here, Phoebe should be out before you're in. So yeah, I'll see you . . .well, tonight, I guess. Bye."

Slowly hitting the end button, she sighed contently before diving under the covers.

-----

"Ahh!", Phoebe yelped, upon seeing Rachel enter the kitchen early the next afternoon. "God, you may look like that every Saturday morning, but it's like I always forget during the week."

"Har har," Rachel mumbled, shuffling past Phoebe to reach the fridge. Her eyes were slits, her hair in a wild mess, her pajamas bottoms wrinkly. She tugged her tank top down her stomach, reaching for some milk.

"So today's the day he's coming, huh?"

"Uh-huh." Rachel proceeded to make herself some cereal.

"Well, I have to go grab my suitcases. Four days in the Hamptons with Eric, this is going to be so great!" She bounced down the short hallway, into her room and out of Rachel's sight. Rachel just shook her head, grabbing the paper and browsing the Entertainment section. Just as she was finishing an article about some rising new fashion designer she'd never heard of, the doorbell rang.

"Phoebe, could you get that? I look like shit," she called out.

"I can't, I'm in the bathroom!"

Groaning, Rachel slowly made her way across the kitchen to the living room. The doorbell rang again, followed by an anxious knock on the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!", she yelled, her voice still cracking from lack of use and sleepiness. After unlocking all the locks, she pulled the door open. Her jaw dropped.

"_Ross??_ You're five hours early!"

"The museum told me not to worry about my shift," he answered nonchalantly, smiling with a radiating innocence. He shuffled into the door, duffel bag in hand. She smiled back, but then noticed that she was still in her 'morning mess' stage.

"Oh, God," she let out. "Listen, come in, my roommate will probably be out in a minute, but I'm gonna go . . .change the entire way I look."

Ross chuckled, entering the apartment and closing the door behind him. His eyes followed her as she haphazardly took off towards her bedroom, slamming the door with a resounding 'bang!' behind her. He couldn't even conceal his growing grin.

-----

"God, you idiot," she muttered to herself, pulling a shirt over her head. She rushed into some acceptable clothes before racing to the bathroom to run a comb through her hair and brush her teeth. For all she knew, he was thinking about how ridiculous she had looked, opening the door practically right after rolling out of bed. A bit too early for him to see her morning fright stage.

As she reentered the living room, she found that Phoebe seemed to have joined Ross. He was uncomforablty shifting his gaze around the room, as Phoebe just watched him, waiting for the next thought to enter her mind so she'd have something to ask him.

"So . . . have you ever killed anyone?", she asked, completely innocent and legitimately curious. It wasn't like she was going to berate him for it if he had.

"Hey there, Phoebs," Rachel said loudly, revealing herself to the two. She raised her eyebrows to Phoebe, as Ross let out a relieved sigh at the sight of her. "Sorry, I just had to get ready. I take it you've met Phoebe."

"Yeah!", Phoebe answered for him. "We had fun, didn't we Ross?", she asked, following it with a wink. He winced uncomfortably. "Oh come on, I'm just kidding. Sheesh."

"Here, let's just take your stuff to her room," Rachel interrupted, grabbing Ross's things for him. She led him across the living room, into Phoebe's room. "Don't worry about her, she's gonna be out in a few hours," she assured in a hushed tone. "She cleaned up in here for you, new sheets and everything. But if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks. Has she always been . . .?", he trailed off.

"A question mark? Yes," Rachel answered, both chuckling when she was done. "Oh yeah, wait a second." She rushed off to her own room, leaving Ross waiting in Phoebe's. She came back holding a folder, which held several typed papers inside. "Okay, this is just all stuff about me. You know, so we sound convincing the other night. I figured I'd forget stuff so, I don't know, I typed it all up."

He took the folder from her hand, smiling in confused amusement. "You made me a study guide?", he asked.

"Yeah, I . . .I guess," she replied, now realizing that Phoebe had been right. It did sound quite stupid. "It's just what's been going on with me since high school, you know. Bringing you up to date on everything, so no one at the wedding brings something up that you won't know about."

"No, sure, I get it," he answered, rifling through the papers. "I'll have to read all of this later."

"Actually, you could probably do that in a little while." She looked at him apologetically. "I have to work today. Remember, I told you on the phone? Not a full shift, since it's Saturday, but I still have to go for a few hours. But I have a little time before I need to leave. I could show you around the block, if you want."

He sighed, his features dropping a little. "Oh yeah. Well, yeah, that'd be great. Lead the way."

They smiled at each other as she guided him towards the front door, bidding Phoebe farewell and leading him down a few flights of stairs and into the morning sun outside.

"So, what exactly _is _pale . . . paleon . . .", Rachel squinted as she struggled to remember what Ross did for a living.

"Paleontology?", he asked, with a laugh.

"Yeah, sorry." Before he could answer, she spotted an empty table through the window at her favorite cafe. "Oh, hey, let's go in here! They have the best brunch special you'll ever have." She grabbed his arm- it was a bit stronger than she'd anticipated- and pulled him inside the shop.

He followed, wordlessly, the smile ceasing to wipe itself off his face going unnoticed.


	6. Chapter 6

Something Like Love

**A/N: **Sorry this chapter took longer than usual! I went through a slum where I just had no inpiration to write, haha. Like I have a LOT of this fic planned out on paper, but I hit a spot that I never planned. But then last night, after I read part of this other old fic, I randomly went into writing mode and finally finished this chapter haha. And then all these ideas came to me last night so I pretty much have the entire rest of the fic planned out, as far as I can tell. So hopefully, it wont be too long until the next update.

Oh and, Tenneil, you totally gotta give me your email address or aim/msn sn if you have one haha. We gotta chat about the wonder that is TOW Rachel Has A Baby :-P I'm always open to RnR discussion, haha. Good stuff. Although now I'm in season 9, which is funny but such a dud year for RnR. The excuses for them not being together get a bit tedious, and its like "alright already, we get it, you had to get another year out of the show" haha.

* * *

"So how long ago did you finish graduate school?", she asked, as she stuck the last few bits of her meal onto her fork. She watched him, as he put his own fork down and rested back against his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"About . . . three years ago?", he estimated after thinking a moment. "Wow, it has been that long. But yeah. And I've been working at the museum ever since, for the most part."

Ross reached out, grabbing his glass of orange juice and taking a sip. He and Rachel had been slowly nursing what he had to admit was a delicious brunch, and he was now realizing that she would have to get back to the apartment and get ready for work shortly. His mind raced, trying to think of everything he'd been meaning to ask her before they had to leave.

"What about you? After that one Thanksgiving, I never really heard what you'd been up to at school," he prompted, purposefully side-stepping her social past. While they hadn't mentioned it specifically since she'd asked him to pretend to be her boyfriend, he remembered what she'd said happened with Barry all too well. So, instead, he'd tried to focus on other things.

"Well," she began, sighing with hesitance. "Yeah, I mean, I went to college, obviously. Did the whole sorority thing and all that. I changed my major like four times freshman year, I could never get a damned parking spot." The two chuckled together as she quickly sipped some her diet coke. "You can see where my priorities were. Anyway, I eventually settled on some fashion classes, but I only got my associate's degree. By that time, I was so happy to get out of there that I never considered going back to get my batchelor's."

Her voice hinted at regret, but Ross decided not to encourage it. She continued.

"So then, by some grace of God, I landed the job at Bloomingdale's like a year later."

"Well, you must be doing good for yourself, your apartment is huge," he noted, taking another sip of his drink. "And on the Upper East Side, for that matter."

She cast her eyes down, staring hard as if concentrating on the tablecloth. There it was, one of the many parts of her past (and, unfortunately, present) that she hated discussing or admitting at loud- the fact that not much of her possessions were actually _hers_.

"Yeah, well, there's a slight chance my father helps with the rent," she reluctantly let out. He immediately began back-peddling, not that he was exceptionally shocked at the revelation. He knew the Green's in his childhood- hardly the ones to let a fellow Green go monetarily dry.

"Oh, Rach, I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean-"

"No, no, it's fine," she weakly assured, nodding her head. She took a deep breath, and raised her head so her face could meet his. "I mean, I'm a freaking assistant buyer, and Phoebe's a masseuse. We'd both be kidding ourselves if we said those paychecks could pay for it."

"Maybe one day, you'll be able to," he said. The comment, if passed through any one else's lips, would have sounded shallow and uninterested. But Rachel couldn't help but notice that he seemed sincere, and almost hopeful for her. Like he _wanted_ her to be able to care for herself. And as if he knew that, one day, she'd be capable of it.

"Yeah, maybe," she granted, her voice soft. Their gazes met, and the sympathy in his eyes caused her to smile. He returned the gesture, and a comfortable silence rose between the two. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw his hand begin to slid towards her across the table. More from reflex than anything else, she jerked her hand back to check the watch on her wrist.

She ignored his vague attempt at covering up a disappointed sigh.

"Oh jeez," she said, noticing the time. "I need to get ready, work is in thirty minutes." She got up from her chair, brushing off her jeans in case of any crumbs, and reaching out for the bill that sat on the edge of the table. But Ross's hand, faster than hers, had grabbed it first.

"I've got this," he assured, already reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.

"Are you sure?", she asked. "I mean, I assumed I'd be treating-"

"Don't worry about it," he said, sweetly and innocently. She watched him as he dropped the appropriate amount of bills on the table, his eyes averted from her like a fourteen year old paying for his first date with a girl. She smiled to herself, stifling a small giggle.

"Thanks."

"It's fine, really."

They walked back across the street, side-by-side, the silence becoming more comfortable by the minute. She kept glancing sideways at him, her mind still buzzing. Almost an hour of talking, catching up, and learning about him . . . and yet, she couldn't help but feel that she still didn't _know _him. And, while she wasn't above admitting that she enjoyed these silent moments, she found herself wishing it were filled with something. Whether it be words, knowledge, or even an implicit understanding, she didn't care. It just felt like there should be more.

"Are you okay staying here for a few hours?", she asked as they entered the now vacant apartment, Phoebe having left shortly before.

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll be fine," he ensured. She quickly showed him where the television remote could be found, along with the movies in the entertainment center, before she quickly showered and dressed for work. As she reentered the living room, she caught a glimpse of the television program he was watching. Some documentary about a new dinosaur species on the National Geographic channel. She smiled.

"Hey," she called out. "I've gotta go now, but you wouldn't want to go to this bar down the street tonight, would you? We could just get some drinks and hang out or something."

She wasn't going against her "staying single" pact, really. She just wanted to get to know this man who she'd never really seen as more than a shy smile and geeky demeanor. But he seemed to have more substance to him- and she was eager to get that out of him. Just who _was_ Ross Geller?

"Sure," he answered bashfully.

"Great, I should be home around seven or eight."

Just as she was leaving the apartment, she noticed a small piece of torn notebook paper sitting atop the side table by the door. Curiously, she picked it up and read:

Go for it, Rach!

-Phoebs

Casting a fearful look at Ross, still engrossed in his program, she crumpled up the note in her hand as she decended down the hallway towards the elevator. Even though she was shaking her head at her roommate's startling but not unpredictable actions, she still had a smile on her face. And, for the first time in ages, it lingered through her entire shift at work.

-----

Sighing with the exhaustion her job usually showered on her, Rachel finally clamored up the stairs in her apartment building. God, that supid job. Why the hell was she even still there? Three fucking years and not so much as a _mention_ of any promotional opportunities. And her boss was _so_ degrading towards her. How long would it take before he got used to the fact that, why yes, she _does _have the spring line memorized. She _always _had the seasonal lines memorized- it was part of her job. And yet, with every changing season . . .

As soon as she aggresively threw open her front door after unlocking it, she was met with a sight that immediately softened her face. Ross was fast asleep on the couch, the remote limply hanging from his hand, threatening to fall. The television flickered on in front of him, illuminating off his resting form in the darkness that now filled the room.

As she closed the door behind her, she had to cover her mouth with her other hand to stifle a giggle. He'd fallen asleep to _Lake Placid_, only the movie had long since ended and the opening credits to _How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days_ were now playing on the screen. She moved to shut off the image of Kate Hudson now on the screen, and crossed the room to turn on the kitchen light. Ross shifted a but, but then sighed and resumed sleeping.

She checked the clock; it was only 8pm. They still had time to go to the bar, but she was almost scared to wake him. He looked so peaceful, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. She kind of liked just watching him, but at the same time, she needed to go out. She had a feeling that Ross would be able to make her feel better about work. So, softly and quietly as she could, she knelt in front of him and lightly tapped his arm.

"Ross?", she whispered carefully.

He stirred, reluctantly blinking in the light from the lamp. His eyes widened in surprise and confusion at the sight of her face, mere inches away from his own, smiling up at him from her spot on the floor.

"Tired?", she asked, still keeping a hushed tone. He rubbed his eyes, nodding.

"A little bit," he admitted. "Must have dozed off . . ."

"You still wanna go to that bar for drinks? You can go back to sleep if you want, but I'm still gonna go." He shook his head, still blinking involuntarily and stretching out his limbs.

"No, no, we can go. Wanna leave in a half hour?"

"Sounds good," she said, getting up and playfully ruffling his hair before retreating to her room.

Ruffling his hair? What was she doing? She stopped dead in her tracks, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Why was she acting so weird? Whenever Phoebe would be sleeping, she'd usually just loudly assert her to wake. She had been so gentle with Ross . . . _ruffling his hair?_ Ugh, work must have _really_ worn her out. Still, she turned around to see his reaction to her gestures.

He was sitting up on the couch now, still rubbing his eyes some more as they adjusted to the light. He had a weird look on his face, a seeming mixture of embarrassment and shy content. She smiled to herself before turning back into her room to get ready for the night.

As she quickly showered, did her hair, dressed, and re-applied make up, she thought of a million things she could ask him about everything. What was his favorite movie, television show, food, color? While most guys would answer generically, it almost excited her to know that he would have actual reasons behind his answers, probably far more interesting than anything she could try and muster up. He just seemed like the kind of guy who would have a long story for everything.

Dressed classy but casual in tight, dark jeans and a flowy black tank top, her make-up natural yet noticable at the same time, she went out into the living room. Ross had changed into black slacks and a light blue, button-down dress shirt, with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. She raised her eyebrows; he cleaned up well.

"Ready to go?", she asked, alerting him of her presense. She couldn't even hide a content smile when his eyes widened at the sight of her, his gaze moving itself up and down her body. Her cheeks burned but it would be a lie to say she wasn't pleased. It wasn't the disgusting, lustful stares she usually got from guys. She didn't know how, but it was just . . . different.

"Yeah," he finally answered, motioning for her to lead the way. She grabbed her small, black Prada purse, shutting the lights off behind her and opening the door. He grabbed the side and pulled it back for her, and as she walked through, his other hand lightly grazed the small, exposed strip of skin just above the wasteband of her jeans. She shivered and felt goosebumps rise.

This could turn out to be an interesting night.


	7. Chapter 7

Something Like Love

**A/N: **Ok, this chapter is a bit shorter than the last. However, I'm not even gonna be modest haha, this is my favorite chapter so far. I wrote it at like 2am on Saturday night (no lie), just after seeing "Derailed" for the first time. I always draw my inspiration from other places, whether it be movies, television, or books. And okay, don't like like "What, she drew inspiration from Derailed, is this gonna turn into some murder story??" LOL. No, it's not, don't worry. The whole atmosphere is pretty much intact. I just wanted it to get a little more tense, that's all Derailed pushed me to do lol. (GREAT movie, by the way). So yeah, this was the aftermath. I did get lots of ideas from Derailed though, so those influences are gonna go into my next fic, which I already have pretty much planned out, and I'm excited to get to it soon.

But anyways, lol. Enjoy the chapter

Oh yeah, and Tenneil... ffnet is really weird and your msn didn't show up, lol. Maybe just put it as your email if you do the anonymous review thing :-)

* * *

Rachel sat on a bar stool, idly stirring her second dirty martini. She glanced sideways at Ross, who looked a bit unsure of himself as his eyes wandered and he took a sip of his own drink. They hadn't said much since they arrived at the bar, but she found herself not minding. Normally, she would be overly uncomfortable during silences with any guy. But, with Ross, it felt like it was okay to not always be talking.

She swiveled in her seat, curiously surveying the rest of the bar's inhabitants. It wasn't crowded, since the bar was fairly old and most of the prestigeous Upper East Siders flocked to the flashing lights and glamour the newer bars and nightclubs provided. But Rachel had always liked this place; it felt friendly and familiar even if you'd never been there. She saw a few men, around their mid-fourties that she recognized from the building next to hers, playing pool at the pool table. A few older people strung out randomly in the tables, a younger man sitting farther down the counter looking low, the same bartender as always cleaning glasses behind the counter.

She heard Ross's bar stool creak as he turned her direction. She spun back around to meet his face, and smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

"What do you think?", she asked, motioning to their surroundings.

"Well, it's . . . an oddly comforting place," he answered honestly. "Feels like I've been here a million times, even though I've never even heard of it."

She smiled at the fact that she wasn't the only one who felt that here.

"It's always been my favorite," she told him.

"I can see why." She noticed that he was analyzing the other people in the bar, just as she was. "Regulars?", he asked, motioning to them.

"Yeah, some of them," she answered. "I see a few of them here all the time, practically everytime I'm here. But I don't really know any of them." She nonchalantly took a sip of her drink, nodding in recognition to one of the 'regulars'.

"Why not?", he questioned, genuinly curious. She sent him a confused glance. "Why don't you know them, I mean," he clarified. She rose her eyebrows in surprise; she'd never really thought about it. It wasn't quite the type of thing that passed her mind while she was here.

"You don't really do that here, I guess," she tried to explain. "I mean, if you don't know people already, it's kind of assumed that they're not important enough to bother getting to know. They don't 'run in your circle', I guess you'd say. They're kinda big with that here."

"That's sad," he said, casting his eyes around the bar again while drinking. "No one will ever know if they're missing out."

"I guess," she admitted, averting her eyes to the floor. It was sad. Besides the people in the apartment across the hall from her that she'd met on a few occasions, she didn't really know anyone in her building. She might know first names, but she never actually held conversation with them. Why did people do that here, just dispense of anyone they didn't already know or had heard of? It was pretty shallow. Then again, this entire part of the city was shallow. Once you hit Park Avenue, everything changed.

"I mean, the perfect person could be in front of someone's face the whole time, you know? And they'd never get the chance, they'd never know. Just because they 'weren't supposed to'."

Rachel brought her eyesight back up to look at him. He was still glancing around at various parts of the bar, but he looked genuinly sad. He felt sorry for the people here, who saw each other every day but didn't even know each other's names. She nodded at his words.

"Can I ask you a question?", he said randomly, after a few suspended moments of silence. "You don't have to answer if it's too personal, it's just something I've been wondering."

"Uh, yeah, sure," she answered with hesitance. What personal question could he have for her?

"When we met at Central Perk last month, you said something about staying single now. I don't know, I've just been wondering what that's all about, I guess. Just curious- is there any reason you're doing that?"

Oh wow, she thought. He remembered? In trying to recall the encounter, she could remember telling him that only briefly, and in one long, frantic sentence. He paid that much attention to her? But, more importantly, was she going to answer honestly?

"No," she decided on. "I mean, that's not too personal. I . . . I can answer that." She took a deep intake of breath; sure, it was a decision that she'd barely explained to her own best friend. But something about Ross made her feel comfortable in confiding in him; based on what little she knew of him, he'd only support her.

"Okay, then why?", he encouraged softly. She could tell that he didn't want to come off as being pushy, but he intently wanted to know. She wondered why. Maybe he was as interested in figuring her out as she was in him.

"I have a dead-end job where I'm never gonna get promoted, my parents still pay for half the shit I own, my roommate keeps thinking I'm having mental breakdowns and then forces incense on me," she counted off. "But that's not even all of it. Have you ever felt your romantic life just, like, come to a standstill?", she asked enigmatically. She could see him visably hesitate at the question, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I guess," he answered relucantly.

"Well, I've felt it. I mean, I try to date, and I find something really ridiculous wrong with whoever the guy is, like I'm looking for an excuse. Really, it's just stupid. I don't know why I do it, maybe I'm just pickier than I thought. Maybe I just stopped caring. So, eventually, I just . . . gave up."

"How long's that been happening?"

"I've had the problems since . . . well, since I left Barry." She sighed sadly. "I've never been able to have a decent relationship since him."

"I thought you said you didn't love him," he asked, confused. She briefly looked him in the eye before darting her gaze away again, just barely nodding to agree with him. "So why would it be a problem?"

"I guess it just made me realize that I'm sick of playing around. Dating for dating's sake just felt ridiculous. There was no meaning, no point. Why bother when you know its only for a little while? None of it lasts." She threw back the last remaining drops of her martini, setting the empty glass on the counter. "Why even give a shit?" A moment of tense silence followed.

"With all these little obstacles, you're really gonna miss out on something amazing. Or someone," Ross said, his eyes smiling at her but the rest of his face remaining stoic. She looked him right in the eyes again, only this time she was unable to look away. She was unsure of the actual time that elapsed as the two of them sat there, seemingly staring the other down, but it felt like a full few minutes.

"I hope not," she eventually found her self saying, her voice barely above a whisper. They both silmultaneously drew closer to each other. . .

"Wanna refill?", the scruffy bartender loundly interrupted them.

Rachel jumped in her seat, easily startled by the man's presense. She shook her head, snapping herself out of a moment she was still struggling to comphrehend, before answering.

"Sure, one more Phil."

"Coming right up."

As he turned towards the drinks, she curiously looked back at Ross. What had that just been? Consequently, he had also turned his attention away, and was now finishing his own drink while surveying the customers once more. One of them had jaggedly entered a few quarters into the jukebox, and music began softly humming through-out the bar.

As Phil placed Rachel's refilled glass in front of her and she thanked him, Ross swiveled in his stool to face her again.

"Would you like to dance?", he asked, and she noticed that he seemed to muster all the courage in the world just to ask those five words. A smile crept its way across her face, and he produced one to match. She was just about to extend her hand to him when a warning sign flashed off in her head.

_You're staying single now._

Her smile waned slightly, and her eyes once again darted elsewhere. Anywhere but his hopeful face. She hadn't just explained half her life story to this guy only to go against every new principle she set for herself just because he was sweet.

God, why did this timing have to be so bad? She deeply inhaled, and exhaled loudly.

Before she could break the bad news, and potentially his confidence, his phone rang. He quickly excused himself, looking a bit embarrassed for putting himself out there, however small a gesture it was. He retreated to a vacant corner of the bar, near the washrooms in the back. Her eyes followed him, their blue sparkle somewhat dimmed.

After a few prolonged minutes, Ross came back.

"I, uh, have something to do tomorrow morning. Like, really early." He shoved his phone back in his pocket. "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna be gone almost all day. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, sure," she answered, quickly nodding. "Then should we . . .", she trailed off, gesturing towards the exit.

"Probably."

They went to pay for the drinks, Rachel noticing how they each paid for their own, rather than either of them attempting to pay for the other. A wall seemed to build itself quickly, dissolving the night into one, long silence, thick with tension.

Rachel led the way back to her building, one step ahead of Ross the entire time. She stared at the ground, retracing the steps she knew by heart, and feeling like they were the only steps she'd ever take for the rest of her life. Nothing ever changed, and no one had successfully penetrated the partition Rachel still seemed to put between herself and every person out there. But, of course, just when things seemed to start changing for the better . . .

"I'll see you," Ross said awkwardly, when they reached the apartment. As he entered the door to Phoebe's room, he turned to look at her as she stood in the middle of the living room, watching him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she whispered back. He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. A few seconds passed before Rachel collapsed onto the couch behind her, burying her face in her hands. "I'm just sabotaging my whole fucking life, aren't I?", she quietly asked no one.

She brought her hands down, looking around the dark and empty room.

"I sure am," she answered herself, before curling up on the couch still fully dressed, and closing her eyes to what was left of the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Something Like Love

**A/N: **Well, I'm not 100 satisfied with this chapter, but oh well. The beginning chunk came out longer than expected, and even when I tried to omit stuff, there was no way I was fitting my other idea into this chapter, so I whipped this up. So now I have more space to develop my original plan and more length to the fic as a whole :-P I hope you guys still like this chapter though.

One of the reviews said how "my profile says" (lol) I'm a teenager, and I dunno, they think I sound wiser? Haha well, I can assure you, I'm in high school. Truthfully, I've barely experienced anything I write about. I've never been in a real relationship, let alone in love, and obviously, I haven't grown up yet. My inspiration for any of these stories is pulled from so many different things- movies, tv, other fics and Friends itself. They all influence my fics. And other than that, I'd have to blame anything good in my writing on school- I've been in honors english classes for years. I'm in AP (college level, basically) english now, and while our writing focus is more on essays, a lot of it is rhetorical analysis, which has helped me sort of form a style. But anything with Rachel, there's possibility that her stuff is purely me. Ever since I started watching Friends, she's been the character that I sort of connect with. I'm definitely not a spoiled rich girl or anything, but I always sort of saw myself in the character. So I feed my own insecurities into Rachel a lot in my fics, maybe subconciously sometimes, I don't know. But maybe that could possibly explain something? Lol I've never seen myself as "wise"- really, I'm just kind of a lost girl with a year and a half left of high school looking for what to do in my future. And writing has given me an idea of where I want to go, so I guess I take it really seriously. shrugs And a lot of my writing... I know I'm young and this sounds ridiculous, but I sort of live through what I write a lot. So I dunno... and this explanation became a whole lot longer than initially planned haha.

Oh and Tenneil... something with ffnet is really messing up, haha. Your msn is just not showing up, so here- I'm guessing its a hotmail account, right? Then I dunno, you can just give me the actual email, just omit the portion. I'd really like to chat with ya sometime :-)

* * *

Rachel awoke late the next morning, blinking her eyes in the bright light that now filled the front room. She wiggled, noticing she had slept in an awkward position on her back since the couch was so small. But when she sat up, she was surprised to find that she was underneath two of her wool blankets. She had pulled covers over her? Unless . . .

She stood up, still attempting to straighten out her back. Ross had, as expected, vacated the apartment. She wondered what it was that so urgently called for his presense today, but tried to push him out of her mind. She was still confused about the previous night and what anything that had happened between them actually meant. Still in last night's clothes, she stumbled over to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice. Admittedly, she'd prefer coffee, but she knew Phoebe was the only one capable of making coffee decent enough to drink. She sipped the drink, blankly surveying the room she spent every morning in since she graduated college.

She felt the impending doom of being trapped in this apartment, this life, forever.

Sure, it had only been a few years that she'd been traveling down this path, and she absolutely loved living with her best friend. But it just seemed so . . . dead end. Most of her life was looking that way, and for some reason, she wasn't allowing herself to be susceptible to change. What if something _had_ happened with Ross last night- something more than just tense stares and heightened breathing. What would have happened if she could have let her goddamn guard down long enough for one dance with him?

Would it have changed a thing?

Well, only now she'd never know, because she'd surely scared him off with her fucking stubbornness. The _one _thing she had to inherit from her father . . .

She was startled out of her musings by the telephone ringing. As she set her glass down and approached the phone, she recognized the number on the caller ID as being Phoebe's cell phone.

"Hey, Phoebs," she answered, her voice still groggy from sleep.

"Whoa, I leave and you actually wake up before noon? This Ross must be a miracle worker." Rachel merely groaned, not quite ready to approach the subject. Phoebe would undoubtably have a million and one questions for her; questions she probably wasn't ready to answer. Questions she was still asking herself.

"How's the Hamptons?", she asked her roommate, side-stepping anything pertaining to her and Ross.

"Oh, they're great! Eric and I are having the best time, and guess what?! I had sex on a boat!"

Rachel leaned against the counter, already feeling her exhaustion intensify at Phoebe's enthusiasm and energy. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, making only a noise of recognition in reply. No wonder she only ever woke up at noon- it was hard to take an early morning dose of Phoebe Buffay.

"Well, alright then Debbie Downer, it's good to know my stories are going to, like, an _active_ audience!"

"Sorry, sweetie, I just . . . things with Ross aren't working out to plan, I guess." Rachel closed her eyes, as if that could block out her mind.

"So, this would be a bad time to mention that I was right, wouldn't it?" Rachel rolled her eyes, having predicted this a mile away.

"I don't know if I like him, Phoebs, so don't go dancing too quickly. I . . . I have no idea," she whined. "I'm supposed to be single now! I can't even take care of myself and be happy in _my own_ life. How am I supposed to let someone else into this mess?"

"I actually thought you'd be stressing about Barry now", Phoebe answered, nonchalantly. "You know, I mean, this is your ex-best friend and ex-fiancee's wedding. You left him standing at the altar while you got your ass out through the bathroom window! Talk about embarrassment, now that he's found someone else . . . who hopefully stays _inside_ the bathroom this time. But yeah, I really thought you'd be freaking out!"

"Oh my God," Rachel whispered after a silent few seconds. "Barry! Phoebe, I hadn't even realized that- _Barry's_ been able to find someone before me! Oh my God- Barry found someone while he was _with _me, Phoebe!" She lashed out into complete panic mode into the phone, while Phoebe tried to keep up on the other side. "If that scumbag can get someone, why can't I? What if I was supposed to find someone already?? OH MY GOD, I am going to die alone!"

"RACHEL!", Phoebe yelled, interrupting. "It's _really_ hard to give advice like this over the phone, okay? I'm really sorry, but I have to go, Eric and I are having lunch on the terrace. There's a _terrace!_" Rachel sighed loudly, now extremely upset. "Look, I'll call you back tomorrow when I have time. Or talk to Ross or something, okay? I don't like you like this, you're turning into . . .Miss Pessimisto or something."

"Yeah, whatever," Rachel mumbled, before the two said their goodbyes and hung up.

-----

In the early evening, Rachel remained on the couch, the place where she'd taken residence most of the day. All she could think about was where she'd ended up in this mess, how some odd chain of events had led her here. She was alone, she was confused, and she was starting to have regrets.

Would . . . would everything just have been easier if she married Barry in the first place? Sure, she didn't love him, but at least she wouldn't have to wonder. Her future wouldn't look so bleak or frightening, everything would be set in stone. Barry would work his orthodontist firm, earning them enough money so she wouldn't have to work in some job that was going nowhere. She wouldn't have all these goddamn insecurities about "not knowing" . . .

But, then again, did she really want to _know_ what was going to happen?

Did she really want everything she almost had?

-----

_Three and a half years previously..._

A nervous, jittery, twenty-four year old Rachel Green fidgeted around in a room off the church narthex. The day was really here- she was about to become Mrs. Dr. Barry Farber. She was marrying someone rich, someone who's future was already determined, and would, in turn, determine hers as well.

An orthodontist! Rachel had been almost beside herself when Barry had proposed a year earlier. She still remembered the way he got down on one knee, right in the middle of dinner at the Plaza. He asked her to marry him, holding the velvet box open to reveal the most dazzling diamond she'd ever seen. A shrieked 'yes' resounded out of her mouth before her mind even processed the image, too blinded by the sparkling beauty.

For as long as she could remember, this is how she was told her life should play out. She'd marry a doctor, he'd make so much money that she wouldn't have to work, she could hang out with her girlfriends at the gym all day long and have no cares at all. It was perfect, it was foolproof! No hoping or wishing for some ridiculous, complicated future. She would have her husband, her money, and everything would work out for the best.

Only . . . as she looked around the room, seeing her bridesmaids hurrying to get themselves ready, she couldn't help but wonder if she was feeling the way she should be. Or was she? She wasn't even sure. People always talked about "love", and Rachel always assumed that she had that. She was in love with Barry, right?

But as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall, she didn't know that she saw someone in love. She saw herself, clad in the most gorgeous white silk wedding gown, her hair cascading in graceful curls over her shoulders, her fingernails manicured to perfection, her make-up flawless. She stared into the reflection of her own eyes, though, and saw nothing. She didn't see excitement, she didn't see happiness.

She saw a hint of doubt.

"Mindy?", she called out to her best maid, who was fighting with another one of the bridesmaids over which bouquet she'd get to hold. "Mindy, come here, I need to talk to you."

"Sure sweetie, what's up?", her best friend asked in her thick Queens accent. "You look like you just saw a ghost!"

"I'm doing the right thing, right? I mean, I love Barry . . . right?"

"Well, of course you do, Rach! I mean, look at him- he's already a successful orthodontist, he's got money growing out of a tree, and he's got the best reputation this side of Long Island! Honey, you two are going to have the _perfect _future together! Remember 'the life' we always talked about wanting in high school?"

"Yeah," Rachel answered weakly, recalling hints of their late-night slumber parties as teenagers, chatting about marrying doctors and shopping for a living.

"You're going to be _living_ it!", Mindy answered, practically squealing.

"But Mindy, I'm actually having doubts about loving Barry on our _wedding _day! Shouldn't that be like a bad omen or something? If I'm really in love with him, wouldn't I . . . just know it?"

"Honey, love is the least important part of it! Who cares? Who needs 'love' and 'friendship' and all that bullshit when you can have your future _set_- better yet, when your husband can afford to have it set in gold." She winked. "Believe me, if you don't love him now, you will once he hands over those credit cards."

For the first time in her life, Rachel found herself disgusted at her best friend's words. Were they really _that_ shallow? Sure, the money and the security all sounded so appealing, but it also sounded so . . . final. Would that really be_ it_?

"I don't know if I want it all set right now, Min. I mean, I have my whole life ahead of me!"

"Take some meds and breath into a paper bag, sweetie, and you'll be fine. It's just pre-wedding jitters, that's all. Calm down." And with that, Rachel's "best friend" found more importance in making sure _she_ got the biggest bouquet of flowers. Rachel turned her attention back to her reflection in the mirror.

Was this _really_ what she wanted? To be twenty-four, and already know how the rest of her life was going to play out? And, seriously, this love thing was bugging her. Everyone always said that you _knew_ when you loved someone. Well, here she was, almost three years into her relationship with Barry, and nothing. Nadda. Zip. She wasn't sure about anything. If she hadn't said yes to him . . . would she have gotten a chance to find out? To really, truly find out what "love" was?

She quickly realized that she didn't want this life . . . She knew she couldn't live on her own, but she knew she didn't want an empty marriage. Her parents would help her, she knew that perfectly well. Maybe this marriage didn't have to define her. Maybe she didn't have to go through with this marriage at all.

Maybe there was a way out of this.

And with that thought, Rachel thought she saw a hint of sparkle return to her eyes. The unknown . . . it excited her. It seduced her. There was so much that could happen, and all she had to do was . . .

"Hey, girls? I'm going to go the the bathroom quickly, I'll be right back."

With that, she quickly nipped off to the washroom. She torn the veil off her head, placing it on the counter and taking a deep breath. Could she do this? _I don't love Barry, _she convinced herself. She didn't love him and she didn't want him or the future he'd bring her. She wanted to figure things out on her own! She wanted to experience whatever the hell it was that she _should _be feeling now. And walking down that aisle would only bring her that many steps father from her _own_ future.

She palmed the window pane, erasing her mind of any last doubts. There was no time for doubting. If she was doing this, she'd have to be sure. She didn't know where the hell she would go or what the hell would happen, but she didn't care.

And with that, she pulled up on the pane, opening the window to so much more than just the outside.

-----

Rachel sighed shakily, feeling a bit of tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes. She had been so hopeful and naive back then . . . so glaringly blind to what leaving that wedding would actually cause to happen. She may not have gotten the future she always dreamed about as a little girl, but she still found herself stuck in an inevitable rut. All day, she'd been trying to think of a way out of this. What would her window be this time?

Suddenly, the front door creaked open. Rachel's head jerked up, and she saw Ross returning.


	9. Chapter 9

Something Like Love

**A/N: **So omg. This chapter... I swear, this Rachel I'm writing, it's gonna be _me_ when I'm 27. LOL, I write so much of myself into her sometimes, that it's insane. No, I haven't left anyone at the altar (in the _many_ weddings I've had in my 16 years of existence, lol), but . . . God, I know these anxieties I give her are going to be the ones I'll have at that age. I'm not gonna relinquish my life story here, haha, but I guess I just . . . hope I wrote it to expectation. lol. Seriously, this chapter is my favorite that I've written so far. I came up with the idea shortly after coming up with the fic's general plot, and it all hits close to home, so I took it really seriously. I just hope I did a good job and that it's realistic because it felt like I was writing myself. And I don't want to look like an idiot by putting so much of myself on the page, haha. And I also hope I'm not completely giving my life away by saying this . . . but I felt it had to be said to introduce this chapter. Hell, I should have started the fic off with an introduction like this, haha. But whatever. Just hopefully you guys like it :-) Cause I know it's my favorite so far.

I realize that this fic strayed away from my initial, "breezy" set of mind. I started to put more work into it... I dunno, I think I've stumbled upon my niche while doing that haha. Sorry if you were looking for a light, airy fic and then it randomly changed into, like, something more haha. I'm just writing as I'm going.

And one last note, THANK YOU guys soo much for the awesome reviews. I've somehow managed to get a lot more than I expected, and every one makes my day :-) Thanks a ton

* * *

Rachel paced barefoot back and forth, back and forth in the hallway. The door to Phoebe's room was closed, and the television that had been on earlier in the room had turned off well over an hour ago. She was trying to gain the courage to knock. Clad in only a tight tank top and pajama bottoms, she subconciously rubbed her arms, now covered in goosebumps from the cold air. _Just open it a crack..._

When Ross had returned, he still hadn't explained his wearabouts well. He looked tired, but when Rachel asked the reason, he had just answered with "stuff", and left for his room. Truthfully, her thoughts had wandered pretty far away from the Ross problems, and were now battling her romantic problems in general. All day, she'd thought of nothing but Barry, and the wedding, and everything that could possibly go wrong.

She groaned, being exhausted. She couldn't sleep at all, because when she tried, her anxiety would keep her awake. So here she was, at 2am, padding around in the hallway, staring at nothing in particular. Her mind was racing at a mile a minute, panicking with every step, wanting so badly to just burst into that room and . . .

"Ross?", she whispered loudly, having finally been able to crack the door open. "Ross, are you up?"

She heard him stir, mumbling incoherently into his pillow. She whispered again, a bit louder. This time, he turned over sluggishly, pulled his torso up, and flipped on the lamp next to the bed.

"Rachel?", he asked sleepily, yawning. He blinked profusely in the light.

"Can I talk to you about something?", she asked timidly, still peeking, wide-eyed and apprehensive, from behind the door.

"Uh, sure," he answered, a bit confused. He looked at the digital alarm clock resting on the bed-side table. "It's 2 in the morning," he stated.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, but Ross!", she exclaimed, bunching the hair on the top of her head with both her hands. "I am _freaking out!_" The loud exclamation lingered in the air for a moment as Ross processed her crazied demeanor, before he pat the vacant side of the bed next to him, beckoning her to take a seat.

"What's wrong?", he asked, visably concerned, when she'd sat indian-style in the spot beside him.

"God, it's just, ugh! There's so much that could go wrong tomorrow!"

"Like what?"

"Like, gee, I don't know- _everything_!"She was still speaking loudly, obviously becoming frantic over something that wasn't quite the real problem. "What if they know this is fake, huh? What if they find out??" Her elbows resting on her thighs, she buried her face in her hands.

"Rachel, listen," Ross began soothingly, bringing his hands to pull hers from her face. "Nothing's going to go wrong. We've been preparing for quite a while now, I can pretty much guarantee that it'll all go okay." She averted her eyes, her face still looking worried over something. It was then that Ross realized that he was holding both her hands in his own, and he dropped them awkwardly. The glorious silent tension resumed it's spot between them.

"But I don't think that's really what's bothering you," he randomly observed as he took in her appearance.

She brought her gaze up, her eyes glossy with the threat of tears, to finally look directly at him. How could he possibly already know about her 'mask-the-real-issue-with-something-else' defense mechanism? Not that she used it on purpose, but people (meaning Phoebe) had told her she did it. She furrowed her brow, feeling like she was a wide-open book for Ross to read. She wasn't sure she liked that feeling.

She wasn't sure she disliked it, either.

"What are you talking about?", she asked bitterly, surprising even herself with how defensive she suddenly became. "You don't know everything about me."

"No," he admitted. "But I _can _tell that it's not the wedding that's scaring you."

"How could you _possibly_ know that?"

"I don't know, maybe it's familiar," he answered, ambiguous yet empathetic. Before she could question him on the matter, he interrupted. "Now, what's really bugging you?"

She sighed, a bit of the thick wall around her crumbling. She held her hands out in surrender, as if presenting her inner thoughts on a platter for him to attempt to understand.

"I don't even know anymore," she answered honestly. "I was just thinking about the day I left Barry, and . . . I don't feel like that helped my life at all!"

"Why did you leave him in the first place? Besides not loving him," he asked. The fact that she was actually sharing something this personal with him made him feel comfortable enough to consolingly rub her back with his left hand. Neither even gave the gesture a second thought.

"I knew that if I married him, my life would be written out for me," she began. "I mean, if I had gone through with it . . . it would just be the same thing! Every day! Barry would always be at his orthodontics clinic, I would shop with my girlfriends, and that would be it! He'd make the money, I'd spend the money, and we'd show each other off at parties. And, for like my entire life, I thought that was a good life. But when I was actually facing it . . . it didn't seem all it was cracked up to be."

"Wow," he let out.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I thought by leaving that mess, life could be _exciting_. Who knows what'll happen next, right?" Her voice began cracking as the tears tried to fight their way through, a stray one gliding down her cheek. "And here I am, three years later, _still_ waiting for . . . whatever I was expecting."

"Rach, why didn't you have a boyfriend when you met me?", he asked. She became a bit offended, not to mention baffled at what this had to do with the problem at hand.

"I told you at the bar, didn't I? Ever since I realized I didn't love Barry-"

"Exactly, and this is why! Rachel, you're still waiting for something huge to sweep you off your feet. But it still hasn't happened yet, and you've convinced yourself that it won't. No one's meeting your expectations anymore, because you_ think _they're set too high. You're afraid it won't be everything you've been waiting for."

She raised her eyebrows, seriously pondering this. It would make sense- it would make _total_ sense. Was this why she was so unsatisfied with her life? Was _this_ why she had problems letting people in? Because she was frightened it wouldn't be what she'd always wished? She let out something like a cross between a chuckle and a sob, but smiled a bit. Another tear found its way out her eye.

"How the hell do you know this stuff?", she joked, wiping the tear away.

"Let's just say that I have a bit of experience in this ballpark," he answered, smiling down at her and bringing his arm around her shoulder to hug her to him. She sighed, defeated, and sunk into his side a bit.

"How so?"

"Well," he started, laying back against his pillow and bringing her to lay next to him. She straightened her legs out and looked at him, eyes wide with curiousity. "I was married once."

"_You_ were _married?_", she asked in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me??"

"I don't like to talk about it," he admitted. A brief silence filled the air.

"What happened?", she whispered, moving her head to rest against his shoulder.

"She was my college girlfriend. We began dating, like sophomore year. She was my first serious girlfriend, the first woman I loved . . . my first everything." He laughed in spite. "She never felt like the exact perfect person, but God knows I really did love her. And even early on, everyone would joke, 'Oh, Ross and Carol are going to get married one day!' So, right after we graduated, we did." Rachel smiled, and he continued rubbing the skin of her arm with the pad of his thumb.

"What went wrong?"

"Well . . . it actually went normal for a while. Yeah, the passion faded, but we were such good friends. But then she got a little distant, spent lots of time out. Then one day, she comes home, and bam! She tells me she likes women."

"Are you serious?", Rachel asked, feeling bad about having to stifle a giggle. He nodded. "That's terrible."

"Yeah, well, at least it didn't end with us hating each other. I wasn't comfortable with it, and it definitely hurt, but I could never hate her. But anyway, just two months after the divorce, she came to me and told me she was pregnant."

"You have a kid?", Rachel interrupted. "How many secrets do you have??"

"That's it, I swear," he answered, chuckling. "But yeah, I have Ben. He's almost four years old now, and just the greatest kid in the world. You know, he's the reason I wasn't here today."

"I can't believe you have a kid," she said softly. "What's it like to be a parent?"

"The most amazing thing in the world," he answered, and she could tell he was genuine. "So amazing," he added, quietly.

"Wow."

The room went silent once again. Only . . . Rachel noticed the absence of any tension. She felt light, lighter than she had in a _long_ time. After keeping her problems to herself for so long, dealing with them out-loud and with someone else's help took a load of weight off her shoulders. But why Ross?

"You know, I never really told anyone that stuff about why I left Barry," she randomly noted, after a few minutes. She didn't really know why. Maybe, if he could figure out the mess that was her life, he could figure out why she chose him to share it with.

"I kinda figured," he admitted, only half-joking. "Did I at least help?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. She rose on one of her arms, propping herself up on her side to look him in the face. The moment got serious, her eyes boring into his with a grateful intensity. "Thank you."

They stared at each other for a suspended moment, breathing a bit faster than before. Then Rachel lowered herself back down, burrowing into Ross's side and laying her head on his chest. She wrapped one arm around his middle, squeezing him in a hug. His arms wrapped themselves around her, returning the gesture and lightly rubbing her back.

"You're welcome," he whispered into her ear. He could feel her smile as her muscles relaxed. He closed his eyes, taking in the moment. Before he knew it, several minutes had gone by, and her breathing became shallow and soft. She was asleep.

He smiled down at her, pulling the extra blanket over her body. He reached over to switch off the lamp, fully settling himself into bed, keeping an arm wrapped around Rachel's back. His hand subconciously traced circles over the bit of skin peeking out between the bottom of her tanktop and the waistband of her flannel bottoms. He kept his eyes open in the dark, staring ahead but glancing at her sleeping form every once in a while, taking in her peaceful face.

Tomorrow was the wedding, and he set his mind on being there for her in any way possible. Whether that meant as her physical "boyfriend", or emotional support, he was ready. He thought about what could possibly happen after the wedding . . . who said he had to leave her life when his "job" was over?

After a few minutes, his heavy eyelids closed, and his breathing fell into sync with hers as he fell asleep.


	10. Author's Note

Something Like Love

**Caity's Apology (lol)/ Author's Note  
**The end has not yet come, don't worry!

Guys, I am SO sorry to have to put this and make you think there's an update, but I felt that I needed to explain the lack of new stuff in this story haha. I have been in a really weird funk where I've just had NO motivation to write. Its really sucked. Also, I recently got my first job (taking orders at the pizza place, woo!) and so I've been busy training for that, on top of school, and I haven't had much time to write. I'm REALLY hoping to get my next chapter done before the end of the week. See, we have weekly essays in english class, and we had one today. So sometimes, after I've written for english, it helps me get in the mood to write my fics. So we'll see what time I get home from work tonight and I'll try to whip something up. Due to how long this has taken and just the amount of time I actually have, what was going to wait until chapter 11 will probably be in chapter 10. So overall, Im anticipating this fic will be around 12 chapters in all. I have most of the rest planned out so I'm really hoping it all comes easy. This will be better once we move onto softball in gym and I get actual hours for my job and get used to it all. Then, you know, I'll be out of school on June 1, so, with the exception of a few vacations, I'm gonna try to write a lot over the summer :-P I've had ideas for a new fic buzzing in my head for months and I cant wait to actually write it.

So guys... God, Im so sorry for keeping you from an update and potentially decieving you with this note haha. But please keep patient, and hopefully I'll have something by the weekend :-) Thanks y'all

Caity

-----

Okay guys, I wrote this a couple of days ago actually... but I still feel like I owe y'all an explanation. I've actually gotten back in the swing of things and will hopefully have that update for you tomorrow :-) I don't work at all until Friday night, so I'm not rushed or anything this week. And also, forget all that chapter stuff I said, because its going to be my fully planned 13 chapters after all. There was no way I was combining everything, it came out feeling WAY too rushed. So yeah, Im still sorry about everything! I'm still here, haha, don't worry!

And thanks to all the people who've amazingly started from the beginning... you guys, this is like my most popular fic ever haha. THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the reviews, I cant say it enough!

Much Love,

Caity


	11. Chapter 10

Something Like Love

**A/N: **Dear GOD was I happy to get this chapter finished last night. This sounds so weird, but when I cant write, I just feel _so_ lost. Writing is my release a lot of the time, and its been a really big comfort because writing these fics kinda helped me realize that this is what I want to do. I really _love_ writing. And when I was just so... I dont even know how to explain it, I just couldnt write a word for like two weeks. And then I started doubting stuff, I felt like I had no idea about what I can/want to do anymore, and ugh. It felt like a mess.

But I got this done last night and it was just like HALLELUJAH. I'm really excited about this fic going where I've planned it to go for so long, so I really hope I have no more humps like this to get over. Thank you so much for following me through the dry spots, and once again, I'm so sorry that I had to tease you with that author's note. But I have a new stand-alone, and this chapter now, so hopefully y'all won't get too peeved at me. Haha

But just thanks for sticking by :-)

* * *

Rachel looked out the small window in her kitchen, sipping coffee early the next morning. She had a small, albeit confused, smile on her face as she watched a few birds hop around on one of the few trees in the neighborhood. She watched some people walking to their early-morning jobs, passing each other on the street without so much as a nod or glance to each other. Absolutely no recognition that others were in existence.

Ross had been right; it _was_ sad.

Ross. To say she was a bit surprised to walk up, turn over, and be met with his face would be a bit of an understatement. But . . . it wasn't a bad surprise. It actually made her smile. Strange, but it did. And now, she was baffled over the last night. How did Ross seem to know her so well? How come _he_ was the only one who could get things like that out of her?

Yet, at the same time, the thought of seeing him this morning scared her a little. Since finding out about his divorce, she was frightened that he would be this completely different person now. She thought she'd gotten to know him sufficiently in the days he'd been staying with her, but there was so much more she'd had to learn. Would he still be the same?

All too soon, the question was answered.

"Hey," she heard him call softly behind her. She took a deep breath before turning around to face him. She was met with an adorable, slightly bashful smile, with was a relief. It was still her Ross.

. . . _Her_ Ross?

She shook her head a bit, getting the thought out of her head. What was that about? She smiled warmly back at him, replying with her own, "Hey."

They stood silently a few moments, averting their eyes and smiling goofily. Rachel awkwardly rocked back and forth on her heels, a little confused over what to do now. At least she was relieved to know that Ross hadn't changed to her. On the contrary, she was rather comforted with his presence. But . . . was plain comfort supposed to make her stomach feel all funny? Cause it sure was . . .

After a few more seconds, she got herself to look back up at Ross. He was already looking at her, and she blushed a bit, looking down again.

"So when do you have to start getting ready?", he asked. "The wedding's at two this afternoon, right?"

Rachel mentally slapped herself in the forehead. The wedding was today! She'd almost completely forgotten. There was so much to do!

"Yeah, that's right, but we should probably be ready by one," she replied, now hurrying to start the long process of looking decent.

Oh, screw "decent". She was going to be a full-on, bomb-shell, knock-out by the time one rolled around.

-----

Four hours and a trip to the salon later, a spectacularly groomed Rachel emerged from her bedroom at half past noon. She had decided on her new black Prada number, with spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline, made of flowy material which hit just past her knees. Paired with her long stiletto heels, she figured she could pass as confident and happy in her life. Her hair, a bit lighter and longer lately, flowed wavy down onto her shoulders, the golder tint catching the light at just the right angles.

Ross, waiting for her in the front room, raised his eyebrows at the sight of her. Her cheeks burned a bit at his reaction, but not so much that she couldn't notice how well _he_ had cleaned up. The suit he had gotten had turned out to look perfect on him, and his hair was spiked up with gel.

After sizing each other up silently for a considerable amount of time, Rachel cleared her throat to draw his attention back.

"I guess we should go now."

"Yeah," he answered. He motioned for her to lead the way, so she grabbed her handbag and guided him out the door and down to the street. She was fidgeting a bit as they waited for a cab, the silence radiating from her stronger every second. She didn't notice the sideway glances Ross threw at her the entire cab ride to the church, his eyes wondering why she was acting so distant.

As they got out of the taxi in front of the church, Rachel halted on the sidewalk in front. There were people visably everywhere, guests and employees alike, going to every length to either not mess up the decorations or add to them. People were talking urgently on cell phones, others were fawning over each other, squeals of old friends meeting again resounded. It looked like something so much bigger than a wedding.

Rachel took a deep breath, her eyes lingering on the people she used to know so well. She wasn't sure she could look them in the face. She hadn't even thought of the fact that the last time she saw a lot of these people was at _her_ wedding; which, obviously, didn't end well.

"How the hell am I going to do this," she whispered to herself. To her surprise, she felt something on her hand, and looked to see that Ross had grabbed it.

"It's gonna be fine, okay?", he said reassuringly. "Don't worry." He smiled at her, which she weakly returned. He squeezed her hand, causing her to full-on grin to herself. Lacing her fingers through his, she led the way into the crowds of people filing in for the ceremony.

All too quickly, the always fashionable Sandra Green made her presense known to her eldest daughter.

"Why, Rachel, you're here!"

"That's mom- turn the charm on 'high'," she whispered to Ross as Sandra continued to make her way across the crowd towards them. "Hi, mom," Rachel unenthusiastically greeted the woman, who pulled her into a much-too-tight (not to mention forced) hug.

"It seems like I haven't seen you for months!" As they pulled out of the hug, Sandra took her daughter's hands in her own and held them out as she gave Rachel the once-over. "You look great! Are you using that exersize tape I sent you? I told you it was a miracle worker!"

"Sure," Rachel answered, distractedly. She pulled Ross forward by his arm for support; her mother was a lot to take.

"And is this your boyfriend, then?", Sandra asked, a big smile growing on her face.

"Yeah, mom, this is Ross," she introduced him as the two shook hands. Ross offered her a warm, albeit a bit apprehensive, smile. Sandra smiled back, and winked at him.

"You look a bit familiar. Do I know your parents, perhaps?"

"Oh my God," Rachel whispered to herself. She never thought of her mother recognizing Ross! And if she admitted that it was Jack and Judy's son, the boy who always trailed after her in high school, it would _never_ be good enough to get out of this mess scratch-free.

"No, you don't know them, they live in Buffalo," she lied before Ross could answer. "Yeah, he, uh, just works here. At the natural history museum, actually." Ross shot her a confused glance, but rebounded quickly when Sandra turned her attention back to him.

"With the dinosaurs? Oh, that's delightful!", her mother exclaimed, a bit fakely. The next few moments were a bit awkward as the three of them stood there, Sandra taking sips of her wine as Rachel counted down the seconds until she thought she'd explode.

"Rach, don't you think we should go inside and greet everyone else?", Ross eventually asked, the silence absolutely killing him. And with one look at her face, he could tell that he'd just made her day with the excuse.

"Yes! Everyone else, we have to go say hi. I'll see you at the reception, mom."

"It's just going to be beautiful!", Sandra exclaimed. "Oh, there's Gertrude, I really must go say hello to her. Have a good time you two! Oh, and Rachel, I actually think your sisters are around her somewhere . . ." Before she could explain further, a group of expertly-groomed people came and whisked Sandra away.

"Oh my _God_, thank you for getting us out of that! She's just unbearable, the woman's unbearable!"

"Calm down, Rach," Ross chuckled. "That wasn't so bad. But why didn't you tell her the truth about me? I mean, she knows my parents and everything."

"That's it. Ugh, look, your parents are great from what I remember. But, around here, if I told them the truth about you, they'd whisper. They'd say bad things behind my back and the whole point of you coming was for them _not_ to. I'm sorry, really. That's just how things . . .work here."

"Lots of rules I didn't know about," Ross joked. Rachel smiled apologetically at him, before grabbing his hand once again and leading him into the already-packed church.

-----

Quickly after entering the church, someone grabbed Rachel's arm and pulled her into one big blurry mess of giggles, squeals, and exhuberant yells.

"We haven't seen you in _so_ long!", her old friend Katie yelped. Truth be told, Lisa had been avoiding Rachel ever since she got married in her young twenties and Rachel had stayed single.

"Well, hi, everyone," she awkwardly greeted the women. She wasn't quite sure how to talk to them anymore, and her eyes quickly sought out Ross for help. She spotted him shuffling, out-of-place, in the corner of the room, shying away from the people around him. He looked up randomly, catching her silent plea amidst the shrieking of her old girlfriends, and he came to her aid.

"I'd like you guys to meet someone," she told them all. "This is Ross."

As Ross offered his hand to everyone around, and he felt Rachel sink completely into his side. As she became engaged in a shallow conversation, he could feel her become more and more dependent on him to just physically hold her up. Feeling that she may need help in more than just standing, he spoke up.

"So, your guys' dresses all match, are you bridesmaids?", he asked curiously. All of a sudden, the women fell silent, and Rachel stared at them all with confusion.

"Hey, yeah, you guys are, aren't you! And she didn't ask me, we were best friends in high school!" Her tone was more than a little offended, and Ross tried to softly rub her arm to calm her.

"Well, um, Mindy just thought that since Barry was the groom, it might be awkward!", Julia lamely explained.

"It would still be nice to be asked!" Rachel exclaimed. The girls all looked at each other, not sure how to continue, until everyone awkwardly offered goodbyes and moved on their seperate ways.

"I cannot believe Mindy didn't even ask me!", Rachel angrily exclaimed as she and Ross took their seats. She plopped down heavily, slamming her purse on the empty space next to her.

"Do you really want to be a part of this, Rach?", he asked seriously. "I thought you were done with this whole world, you know?" She paused to consider this a moment. "You probably wouldn't like it."

"I guess," she admitted, but her attention was caught by something else. Someone was whispering behind her, and she caught wind of her name. She curiously looked around, and saw more than a few people avert their eyes as her gaze passed over them. "Oh my God, everyone's talking about me!", she urgently whispered to Ross, slapping her forehead with her hand.

"It'll all be fine, who cares what they think?", he soothed, putting his arm around her and bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. "You look more beautiful than anyone here, you're probably a better person than anyone here, so don't worry," he whispered lightly into her ear, before hesitantly kissing her forehead.

She couldn't tell if the action was for show or sincere, but paired with his sweet words, she couldn't deny that she felt goosebumps rise on her skin and a bashful grin grew on her face.

"Thanks," she feebly whispered, and he looked down and smiled at her. Before any other words could be spoken, however, the procession music started and the entire congregation rose to their feet to watch the wedding party ascend down the aisle.


	12. Chapter 11

Something Like Love

**A/N: **Hellooo. I was hoping this chapter would come along quicker but I kept hitting snags along the way. Truthfully, though, I've had the end of this one planned almost since day 1. It was one of my first ideas of something I definitely wanted to happen, so that made me happy to finally write it. I hope nothing in here came out corny, ugh. The song, btw, is "Times Like These" by the Foo Fighters, and the accoustic version cause it's better :-P

Expect two more chapters out of this one, folks. ;-)

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever, I present to you Dr. and Mrs. Barry Farber!"

The crowd cheered and clapped for the seemingly happy couple up front. They descended down the aisle and out of the church, Mindy giggling like a school girl and Barry pushing his chest out proudly as he strode beside her.

Rachel stared at them in disgust.

"Ugh, I thank God for not letting me go through with that."

"Better her than you," Ross joked, and she chuckled.

"Oh, definitely."

The congregation began filing out of the room, Ross and Rachel taking their time before straggling out at the end. Rachel wasn't yet up for mingling with the people who did nothing but shoot wondering glances in her direction before whispering in their friend's ear. And she was hoping that, maybe, since they were one of the last people out of the church . . .

"Oh my God, Rachel!!", a strong Long Island accent reached her ears.

Okay, so much for that idea.

"Hi, Mindy," Rachel uncertainly greeted her ex-best friend, meeting in an awkward hug.

"We haven't talked in forever! And look!" Mindy held up her ring finger, showing off the designer engagement ring that was now perfectly paired with the solid gold wedding band. "I'm Mrs. Dr. Barry Farber!"

"Yeah, look at that!", Rachel feigned excitement. "How does it feel?"

"Oh, honey, he's an orthadontist, so it feels great!"

"Well hey there, Rach," Barry smirked at her as he noticed her presence. Rachel hated the look he was wearing on his face, so smug, almost willing her to be jealous. So instead, she tightened her hold on Ross's arm and grinned widely.

"Hi, Barry. This is Ross, my, um," she cleared her throat nervously. "-boyfriend."

Both Mindy and Barry's eyebrows went up in surprise, as neither had expected Rachel to even show up, let alone with a date of her own. The four made some awkward, forced small talk, Rachel's smile growing more genuine by the minute. She could just _tell_ that this entire plan was worth while- Barry looked incredibly put out of place, Mindy was continuing to try and make her life seem mor exciting than it was, and Ross . . . well, he'd been helping her out a lot more than she'd originally imagined.

Eventually, it was time for the wedding party to take pictures with the new couple, and it was time to say their temporary goodbyes.

"Well, we'll be seeing you two at the reception, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Rachel answered, too happy with herself right now to even bother stifling a chuckle.

"Right, well, good to see you're doing well, Rachel," Barry said disinterestedly, before leading his new bride back into the church. Ross and Rachel watched them for a minute, before turning back to look at each other. Both were smiling.

"Looks like we're pulling it off," Ross said. Rachel nodded, obviously overwhelmed by recieving the responce she'd been hoping for.

"Yeah, we really are, huh?" But soon, all the giddy excitedness wore out. They looked at each other steadily, before Rachel spoke again. "I guess we should catch a cab to the ballroom now."

"After you," he said, letting her lead the way back out onto the street.

-----

Soon, the two were comfortably seated at their assigned places in the side of the ballroom covered in tables. They seemed to have been jumbled into the "assorted" table of last-minute guests that didn't really fit anywhere else; everybody that Rachel would have talked to was in the wedding party, anyways. They mostly kept to themselves, offering a bit of small talk with the other random guests sitting across from them.

Rachel's mouth hurt from smiling. Her head ached from having to incessently rattle off ficticious facts about her and Ross's "relationship". She was tired of pretending; God, did she want to get away from this table. She excused herself to the washroom after dinner was served, but instead went outside.

"Getting away from it all?", she heard a quiet voice ask behind her. Ross had followed her out.

"Maybe a little," she humored him, feeling a little more comforted by his presence. She leaned her back against the wall of the building. "I'm just so tired of putting on this show for them, you know? I'm beginning to wonder why I bothered in the first place."

"I was wondering that too, actually," Ross admitted. "Didn't you say you were sick of this whole world? I mean, it's obviously not what makes you happy. Why are you trying so hard to please and impress everyone?"

"I guess I'm not as detached from it all as I hoped I'd be," she told him with a bitter chuckle, mostly at herself. "I was finished with this. But, somehow, I got dragged back in. I know I shouldn't care about what they think, it's just . . ."

"Is it really what they think that bothers you?"

"No," she answered quicker than she believed she would. All of a sudden, a lot of things were becoming clear. "You know, maybe this whole image . . . it wasn't for them. Maybe I was just trying to convince myself of something." Her face became thoughtful.

"That you were happy," Ross whispered. She nodded, staring into the dusk air at nothing in particular.

"That I was happy," she repeated, confirming his answer. They stood next to each other in silence for a few elongated moments, bothing watching the sun descend slowly beneath the horizon, hearing the last dying sounds of the day fade into the sounds of the night.

"_Are_ you happy?", he eventually asked. She shook her head.

"I don't know. I think I'm still waiting," she answered, alluding to their early-hour discussion the previous night. Whatever she was waiting for still hadn't come, or she hadn't discovered it fully yet.

"What do you think will get you there?"

"If I can just forget about all this shit and finally be happy with myself for _me_. I don't think I ever have been, you know? I've always been trying to meet someone else's standards." She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "And if I could finally stop looking for happiness and let it find me."

"Maybe it has," he said, in the smallest voice she'd ever heard him use. She turned to him, her face questioning and curious, but she could not think of anything to say. Thankfully, some other guests broke the silence as they left the reception to smoke. A slow, accoustic song could be heard beginning on the dance floor through the open door.

"Care to dance?", Ross asked her, now turning to face her with a smile. "If you remember, you still owe me one."

Rachel grinned to herself, remembering that night at the bar. It was only a few nights ago, but it felt like an eternity. She felt like she had- like _they_ had- grown so much since he came. Smiling broadly for him to see, she took his outstretched hand and nodded. He led her over to a corner of the parking lot, where the music could be heard more clearly and the lights from the building created a glow around the area. The song, now partway through, could just faintly be heard.

_I, I'm a new day rising_

_I'm a brand new sky that hangs_

_The stars upon tonight_

Not even bothering to go inside, Ross brought his arms around to encircle Rachel's waist and she let her own snake up around his shoudlers. And right there, in the corner of the parking lot, for all the world (or at least the street) to see, they slowly began swaying to the music. She could tell that, even still, he felt a bit shy being in this situation with her. But at the same time, he was somewhat confident. It was like he was in control but vulnerable at the same time, a combination which mystified her.

_I, I'm a little divided_

_Do I stay or run away_

_And leave it all behind?_

After giggling a bit at the two of them dancing outside, Rachel looked him seriously in the eye, holding his gaze.

"You know, I think you were right about me last night," she spoke quietly, almost frightened to break the tranquility that surrounded them. "I'm just waiting for that one, huge thing to come take my breath away, you know?"

"Yeah," he whispered back. "I know."

"You learned more about me in the past few days than most of the people I've known my entire _life_," she observed randomly, then wondered why she'd even said that out loud. They continued swaying silently for a while, both staring at something over the other's shoulder.

_It's times like these, you learn to live again_

_It's times like these, you give and give again_

_It's times like these, you learn to love again_

_It's times like these, time and time again_

"Thank you," she decided on saying. He looked back at her face. "I mean, you've done everything I needed tonight. Well, even more than that." She chuckled a little before continuing. "But, I mean, I don't get it."

"What don't you get?"

"You have your own life. You have friends, a job, a son . . .", she paused for effect. "Why are you here, doing this for me?"

"Because . . .", he trailed off. She swore, in that moment, his eyes could have easily bored holes right into her own. _Easily_. But she didn't dare look away.

"Because why?"

Before she could blink, or even breath for that matter, he leaned down and placed the gentlest, softest kiss on her lips. It lingered a few short, aching moments before they broke apart. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her expectantly. She was fighting to control her breathing.

Subconciously, she tightened her arms around his neck, bringing his lips back down to hers. She closed her eyes, anticipating something amazing, but just before their lips met, someone burst out the door loudly.

"Rachel!"

At the sound of her name, Rachel immediately broke out of Ross's hold, like a teenager being caught with her boyfriend. In her head, she was cursing whoever had succeeded at killing what was possibly the most exciting moment of her life since . . . ever. The sight she was met with did more than just frustrate her- it confused the hell out of her.

"Barry?", she asked disbelievingly. He was in only his dress shirt, the bowtie having been discarded sometime during the night. He seemed a little out of breath, but also a little desperate. But for what?

"Do you mind if I talk to you a minute?", he asked.

"Um, I'm kind of in the middle of something-"

"It's important," he cut her off. Raising her eyebrows at his demand, Rachel turned back to see Ross. He nodded his head towards Barry, silently allowing her to talk to him as he began tracking backwards towards the ballroom. She sent him an apologetic look, knowing he'd never know just how sorry she was about this.

Looking back at Barry, she could tell that this would not be a quick conversation. "What is it?", she asked urgently, trying to alert him to hurry his ass up.

"I think I still have feelings for you."

Her jaw dropped.


	13. Chapter 12

Something Like Love

Okay, well . . . I'm not really satisfied with this chapter. Its like 500 words shorter than my chapters normally are, which is making me very paranoid that things might be underdeveloped. But at the same time, I've gone through it like ten times and cannot for the life of me think of anything else to add. In my mind, I have two very prominent situations happening in the remainder of the story, and the first one definitely wouldn't fit in with this chapter (those will probably be combined into what will be a long ending chapter . . . well, maybe if that one turns out long, it'll make up for this one). So I'm sorry its so short, but I was really at a loss for anything else. I like this fic a lot, but I'm ready for it to end lol. Ideas for my next one have been buzzing for a few months already, and I'm ready to move on. But definitely not before my intensively planned ending for this one (much of it written on paper any everything! haha)

So yeah. I have like a million essays I've put off for school to write (well, 2, and you can see where my priorities are). So yeah, sorry again for this being so short, but I'm gonna work my ass off on the last chapter to make up for it. Reviews, once again, totally appreciated (you guys are awesome!)

Oh, and because I've been spreading the word for over a day now, go rent "Children of Men". Its this movie with Clive Owen (swoon), and its incredibly amazing. It truly is one of the best films I've ever seen. Seriously, go get it. You totally won't regret it.

* * *

"I think I still have feelings for you."

Her jaw dropped.

"Wh-what?", she stammered. All he did was nod. "F-feelings?" She was absolutely caught off guard, and not quite sure whether she was more surprised, shocked, pissed off, or appalled. "When, how?"

"I saw you in there, with that guy-"

"_Ross_," she corrected him. "His name is Ross."

"Yeah, whatever, but Rach. I mean, I know I was stupid- who isn't? I didn't treat you right, but I still can. Maybe we weren't perfect the first time around, but-"

"Where was all of this three years ago?", Rachel interrupted calmly. He stared at her blankly, a shade of shame in his eyes. "Barry, we had _nothing_ when we were getting married but the same credit card company! There was no passion there, we weren't even friends! You didn't even chase me when I left the wedding!"

He hung his head, either out of embarrassment or regret, but she couldn't identify which.

"I know, I'm an idiot. I felt bad, because I knew getting married was a bigger deal to you then me. I mean, it was an obligation for me. It was what I was supposed to do! But . . . seeing you with someone else, its too hard. I think I made a mistake."

"Well I don't!", she said, raising her voice. She held her hands out in frustration. "Barry, look, I have _not_ been happy with my life. But I never made a better decision than walking out on that wedding. That was the best damn thing I ever could have done for myself."

"Rachel, please, I love-"

"You do not! You're just jealous that someone else got your leftovers. Well, I don't feel sorry for you, Barry. What are you even doing here, you just married Mindy! You're a newlywed!"

"Rach, I know that, but I'm willing to-"

"But I'm not."

There was a tense moment of silence before Barry stepped forward. Rachel was praying for this conversation to be over, hoping to God she'd be able to get to Ross . . . _Ross_. Ross had just _kissed_ her . . . Why the hell was she giving Barry her time?

"Barry, I have to go-"

"Don't, Rachel. Don't make the mistake again." Before she could do anything to counter him, Barry had violently grabbed her and closed his mouth over hers. She went numb from the abrupt act, too weak to break out of his grasp. She had no idea how to react. Behind them, she heard a glass shatter on the ground, and Barry let go of her to see what happened.

Ross was staring at them, his eyes wide, his hand still sticking out as if his wine glass hadn't just fallen. His eyes filled with more genuine hurt than Rachel had ever seen before.

"Oh my God," she said under her breath. "Ross!" But it was too late, he'd already turned around and began storming across the parking lot.

"Can't take the competition, eh?", Barry said with a smug chuckle. Rachel shot him one dirty glance before attempting to catch up to Ross in her heels.

-----

Almost a block down, Rachel saw him slow his pace. She ran quickly to catch up, still a few feet behind him.

"Ross, please, that wasn't what it-"

"Was I just a pawn in this?", he asked. She stopped cold. He seemed to be both angry and hurt at the same time . . . she'd never heard anyone's voice sound so sofly alarming.

"No, Ross, believe me, I-"

"What, you bring me here to get Barry back? Rachel, if that was what you wanted, then why the hell did you leave him in the first place? Could have saved a _lot_ of trouble on my part."

"I didn't-" But she couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"And he's married now! But I guess that's just how you guys do it here- she got him while you two were together, and now you go for him after they marry. Nice, Rachel, real nice. Did you really need me to get this?"

"I wasn't expecting that to happen!"

"To happen, or for me to see it?", he asked coldly. He had stopped walking at a random corner. He stood with his back to her, staring at God only knew what, while she stopped behind him. She didn't even know what to say . . . why wouldn't he listen to her? He didn't even seem to care about her side of the story. Was he really that quick to assume she'd do something like that? Maybe . . . maybe he wasn't what she thought. Maybe she had hoped for too much.

"If that's really what you believe, Ross," she began, taking a deep breath to gain what little strength she had left, "then fine, believe that. If you think I am _so_ prone to use you like that-" her voice began raising, so she paused to calm back down. "If you think I would really do that, then this isn't even worth it. I thought you knew me better."

"So did I," he added. After another few seconds of thick tension, Rachel silently turned around and headed back down the street.

-----

She walked the entire ten city blocks back to her apartment. By the time she reached her building, there were goosebumps on her skin from the cold, and she held her stilettos in one hand and her handbag in the other as she walked. Mascara was smudged under her eyelids, a few lone tears making their way out every so often. It had begun to lightly drizzle, dampening her hair and making the straight locks wave from the moisture.

She didn't even bother flipping on any lights when she got to her place. In some sort of daze, as if she were in a dream (or nightmare, rather), she unlocked the door, closed it behind her, flung her shoes and purse on the couch and proceeded to her bedroom.

She thought this had been what she was waiting for. When she was dancing with him, it was like everything had fallen into place in her mind. It all made sense. _He_ was the one who helped her figure out what had kept her inside for so long. _He _was the one that made her feel comfortable in a place where she never quite had. _He_ was the one asking her to dance, kissing her, and then . . . breaking her heart.

Or did she somehow break his first?

None of it made sense anymore. Not one damn thing.

She laid down on her bed, on top of the covers, and took a deep breath. On her back, she stared at the ceiling, knowing Ross wasn't a room away incase she couldn't sleep tonight . . . knowing she might very well never see Ross again. How often do you run into people like him at random in the bookstore? In her experience, once in a lifetime. And it was all down the fucking drain.

"God dammit," she mumbled to herself.

A beep interrupted her concentration on how much everything was going downhill, and she noticed it was her cellphone. She got it out of her purse, and saw she had a voicemail. Her heart lept up in a single moment of hope- maybe it was him.

"Hey Rach, it's Phoebs! We're coming home early, so I'm going to be home tomorrow morning. Hope you and _loverboy_ don't mind. He'll be out by tomorrow, right? Or maybe shacking it up with you in your room? I'm just kidding, but really, he better be out of mine. Well, either way, I hope everything goes perfect for you tonight. See ya in the morning! Oh, we can go out for coffee!!"

Rachel hit the end button and tossed the phone on the floor. Not even Phoebe could make her smile . . . not now. She'd just messed up the one good thing she had going for her . . . maybe he was right. Maybe it really would have all been better if she had just stayed with Barry. Sure, life would have been repetitive, and unexciting, and dull. But she wouldn't have to go through this.

She'd never known what she had missed, everything she'd learned with Ross the past few days.

Thinking about it, she realized that she probably would have found herself in the same place either way. Alone, miserable, regretful. Every time things started to fall into place, they got messed up. And it wasn't even her fault this time!

She turned to her side, rubbing her arms for warmth rather than pulling the comforter over her. Why bother? It wasn't like that would make everything magically better. She didn't even know what would make anything better.

She didn't even know if it could have been him.


	14. Chapter 13

Something Like Love

**A/N: **This is it, folks. "The end of an era!!", haha. Alright, I promised you guys a long last chapter, and you get it :-) Although I must say, my idea for the ending played out SO much better in my head... seriously, if I could do what I would love to with all these ideas from the story and make a movie, it would be better haha. I'm not really happy with this end, but hey, I'm ready to finish this fic. I've been so busy with work (finally, thats dying down and I have a freakin permadent schedule) and just not in the mood (bad week). But Im so incredibly anxious to start my next fic, which I have half of the first chapter of, so I have to close this before I can start another.

Oh, and I apologize for my need to incorporate the title of my fics into the ending... Its seriously something I always gotta do haha. My trademark, I guess.

But I hope you guys like the chapter enough. The very end is a bit simple- like how I planned this fic to be when I first started. But it ended up evolving and getting much deeper than I thought it would, and kinda grew as I did. Cause I must say, a lot of me was incorporated into this. But I wanted to go back to the simpleness, so I did. And I hope its still good.

Thanks to everyone who's given me so many amazing reviews- you guys are freakin' awesome.

Til next time, folks tips hat

* * *

"Rach, I'm home!"

Groaning, Rachel could hear the faint sound of Phoebe entering the apartment penetrate her sleep. Well, not really "faint". Closer to "how-the-hell-do-you-make-that-much-noise-with-one-fucking-suitcase".

"Oh good, he's out of my room," she heard Phoebe mumble as she passed down the hallway. "Rach, are you up? It's past noon."

Rachel blinked profusely as Phoebe opened the door to her bedroom, allowing the afternoon light from other parts of the apartment to flood in. She shifted a bit, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her eyes before answering.

"Now I am," she groaned, her voice cracking from lack of use. Phoebe's eyes grew wide with surprise.

"What, did you immediately crash when you got home?", she asked, referring to the fact that Rachel was still in her dress and reminents of her makeup could still be seen on her face.

"Yeah- listen, can we talk later?" A simple question, but Phoebe could tell from the look in Rachel's eyes that she really wanted to be alone now. Respectful of her roommate, although incredibly curious about what was going on, she nodded and left Rachel alone in her room.

-----

An hour later, dressed in ratty old jeans and an old t-shirt, Rachel emerged from her bedroom. Her face was washed, completely un-made up, and also completely devoid of any emotion. Her hair hung down in limp waves. Phoebe's eyebrows raised.

"So what the hell happened to you?" Rachel only groaned in reply, plopping down on the couch and turning to Phoebe, who was reading in the armchair. "And where's Ross, by the way?"

"Probably as far away from me as possible," Rachel speculated, a hint of regret tinting her voice. Her eyes were staring idly out the window, past Phoebe.

"Why? I mean, I could tell you were super down and, like, murky when I talked to you the other day. But I assumed that would all work itself out. I mean, you're always getting all flustery about things and then you get over them quickly."

"Well . . . Ross had helped me get over everything, I guess." She sighed. "I mean, I know he'd only been here a few days, and I haven't seen him in years, but . . . he just _got_ me, Phoebe. Anything I was ever wondering about, he somehow knew the answer to. For once, I didn't feel so fucking confused with my life."

"How unhappy were you?", Phoebe asked tentatively. "I mean, I had no idea."

"I think I was a lot more unhappy than I let on," Rachel answered, sighing. "It's like, until Ross was here, I didn't know how far gone I was, because I never really knew what it felt like to be _happy_. But, after we talked two nights ago, I think I was . . . _happy_."

"So what was the problem?"

"Well, Ross said that after I figured out that I didn't love Barry, I must have been waiting for something really big to happen. Just the one, big, exciting thing in my life that was gonna make me lose my breath. And when it didn't come, the bar kept raising higher and higher . . . that's why I turned down every freaking guy I tried to date."

"Wow. Are you sure Ross works with dinosaurs, and isn't some kind of psychologist?" Rachel laughed quietly.

"No, he's not. He just . . ." She trailed off, not even really knowing how to explain it. How _was_ Ross able to figure out everything about her, things that she herself didn't even know?

"So after this shrink session," Phoebe joked, "What happened?"

"Well, we went to the wedding, and everything was going great. Then we were outside, he asked me to dance, and . . . he kissed me."

"Oh, I was _so_ right!", Phoebe shrieked. At a warning glance from her roommate, however, she resigned herself. "Sorry, continue."

"Well, it was just like a little soft kiss, you know? But . . . God, it was just . . . perfect. But then Barry came out and interrupted us. I talked to him, and I guess somehow, the jackass got the idea that he still had feelings for me."

"I did not see that coming!"

"I know. But anyways, I told him off, right? And then he had the nerve to fucking kiss me, and Ross saw. He was furious Phoebs, and so hurt. He thinks I set this whole thing with him up just to get Barry back." She hung her head, covering her face with one of her hands. "God, and I was just so mad that he would think that, that I just let him go. I just let him walk away, Phoebe."

"You just let him leave?", Phoebe asked, stunned. Rachel solemly nodded, averting her eyes as she felt an unwanted onslaught of tears invade them. "I can't believe it. Rachel, he was the big thing you've been waiting for!"

"You don't think I realized that last night?", Rachel whined. She quickly brushed away the first tear that escaped her eyes, sniffing loudly and shaking her head with regret. "But, I mean, what am I supposed to say to him? He thinks I'm this horrible person, he's not going to want to talk to me! And I'm not really sure that I want to talk to him . . ."

"Well, alright. Except that you _totally_ are." Phoebe moved to sit next to Rachel on the couch, placing her hand supportively on her friend's shoulder. "Rach, you cannot let this guy get away. I haven't seen you this upset since Barry, and I think you were more upset about the money you were losing by not marrying him."  
This comment caused Rachel to chuckle a bit amidst the tears, providing a contrasting sight against her reddened face.

"I don't think I'm ready, Phoebs. I just . . . I just want to lie down." Without another word, Rachel got up and disappeared into her bedroom, a worried Phoebe watching after her.

-----

After a long, much-needed nap, Rachel woke up. Her mood was a bit lighter, although that was not saying much. She saw that it was nearly dinner time, but she didn't know that she was prepared to get back up.

Her mind drifted over every aspect of the past few days. God, she could just tell how different Ross had made things. She had slipped so far into her unsatisfactory life that she hadn't even _noticed_ just how unhappy it was making her. But with Ross, she finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Life didn't _have_ to be so mundane, unforgiving, and cruel . . . you just had to find the right person to share it with.

And now, that light had flickered out.

Rachel immediately sat up in bed; she _had_ found that person. She knew exactly who it was to draw her out of this gloom . . . maybe that light wasn't completely gone. Maybe she could do something about it.

Suddenly rejuvinated, Rachel ran into her bathroom to throw on some light makeup. She grabbed her purse, pulling on her leather jacket before showing up in front of Phoebe, who had been reading in the living room.

"Can I borrow the taxi?", she asked, referring to Phoebe's hand-me-down taxi cab that her grandmother used to drive.

"Sure- oh, are you going to see Ross?!", she asked, immediately excited at the prospect.

"Yeah," Rachel distractedly answered, grabbing Phoebe's keys off the kitchen counter and hurrying to the front door. "Shit, I think he's at work now, I guess I should try the museum first," she mumbled to herself. Phoebe watched Rachel in awe.

"What, do you, like, love him?", she asked, half-joking and chuckling as she said it. However, the comment caused Rachel to stop with the front door standing half-open in front of her. Oddly enough, Phoebe's words caused a smile to grow on her face. She turned to face her roommate.

"Something like that."

With that thought propelling her even more, Rachel was out of the apartment and downstairs in a flash.

-----

She reached the apartment in record time, despite the shitty traffic due to a growing storm outside. She raced into the New York Museum of Natural History only ten minutes before their closing time, bartering fiercely with the woman at the front desk for permission to see Ross. After being informed that he was in the paleontology department's office, probably doing some last-minute work, she hurried across the large museum to find the room.

Once she had manuevered her way to the place, she saw him. Well, the back of him, rather. But she stopped dead, suddenly filled with a bit of apprehensive fear. She had been so adamant about finding him that she hadn't even thought about what she would tell him . . . what was she going to _say_?

"Ross?", she asked, figuring it was best to begin with greeting him, at least. He perked up, turning curiously to see who was calling out to him.

"Yes?", he began to say automatically, but stopped when he was met with an out-of-breath Rachel. Suddenly, his face fell flat, and he turned his attention back to his work. "What do you want, Rachel?", he asked, sounding almost exhausted at the thought of conversing with her.

She paused a moment, taking a deep breath. It was time to say something. At this point, there was nothing more to do than let her heart do the talking . . . a frightening prospect, but she knew that if her mind took over, things would come out all wrong.

"I need to talk to you," she prompted, subtly requesting for his full attention. But he still didn't give it to her, and as he slipped a few papers into an envelope, it became apparent that he was getting ready to leave. "I wanted to apologize."

"For what?", he asked, almost daring her to admit to her faults as he continued cleaning up his desk.

"For Barry. Ross, look, I had no idea that Barry was going to do that. It was not planned, alright? Believe me, it was the last thing I wanted to happen just then-"

"Then why didn't you stop him?", he asked, a tiny sliver of his true vulnerability showing through his stone-cold cover. Rachel wrinkled her forehead, immediately falling soft at his demeanor beginning to break.

"I was caught off-guard, and not in a good way," she admitted. "I don't love him, Ross. I didn't then, and I don't now. But before he came, I was caught off-guard by you . . . but in a way that was so much _better_ than that."

Ross had begun standing up to load his work into his briefcase, and he slightly waned at this comment. But he quickly recovered and continued.

"Ross, you figured out _everything_ about me, and in a matter of days. I don't know how the hell you did it, but that has to count for something. And that big thing you said I was waiting for? Well, when you kissed me . . . I didn't feel like I was waiting for anything. I felt like, maybe I'd found it."

He had now completely stopped, his back still to her but his eyes now staring straight out at the wall in front of him. He didn't say a word or move an inch.

"I haven't seen a bright future for me in a long time, Ross. But when you came, I stopped seeing that dead-end life. I felt like, God, I didn't know what was going to happen! I had no idea what might happen with you and I. And, for once in my life, I wanted to find out. I _wanted_ to go through another day, just to see what might be there."

She was pouring out her heart to him, being so completely honest that it hurt. Yet, except for his stalled actions, he showed no understanding of any of it. He remained stoic, the only indication that he may have heard her being a slight increase in his breathing rate. But he still said no words; he still didn't awknowledge her. She squeezed her eyes shut, loudly exhaling.

"That's all I can give you, Ross. That's all I have, but it's as honest as I've ever been."

With a remaining lack of reply, Rachel hung her shoulders, and turned to leave. As she stepped out the door, she cast one hopeful glance back at him. He was still staring at the wall. He sighed loudly, hanging his head, but she hadn't seen or heard; she had already left.

-----

The rain had picked up, thunder booming every few minutes and an occasional flash of lightening. But Rachel made no move to go find her car in the parking lot; she instead stood at the curb, the rain beating down on her, and stared into space. She didn't even notice her hair curling as it got soaked, her shoes filling with dirty puddle water, or the rain beginning to seep through her jeans.

She had just laid her heart on the line, and been rejected. Silently. A few tears found their way out of her eyes, mixing with the raindrops that fell on her face. She didn't move to wipe them. She didn't care.

With a heavy sigh, her feet finally began moving again, and she wrapped her arms tightly to her chest as she battled the rain and wind.

"Wait . . .", she heard feebly behind her, causing her to stop cold. It couldn't be . . .

Could it?

"Rachel," she heard breathlessly behind her. Eyes wide open in complete shock, she turned around to find Ross hurrying after her.

"Ross, wha-", she began, but before she could even get the words out, he'd caught up to her. The second she was within his reach, she felt his hands on either side of her face, and his lips warm and soft on hers. Instinctively, her hands went around his wrists as he deepened the kiss, reluctant to let go for even a second.

When they finally broke, she looked at him questioningly.

"Do you really see a future with me?", he asked. She bashfully nodded, and he moved his hands from her face down to holding her arms. "Good," he answered. Before she could stop them, her tears once again got the better of her, but he wiped them away. She was smiling radiantly, despite the cold rain continuing to poor, despite the sting of her tears, despite . . . anything else going on.

"I guess we're stuck with each other then," he said simply, but his eyes twinkling in a way that hinted what was actually meant by the statement.

"Eh, it's not so bad," she joked, her voice cracking. They looked at each other for a suspended moment, before Ross leaned in again. No Barry to interrupt them this time.

She hugged him around the middle, neither of them caring in the slightest about the rain or any nearby pedestrians.

And she knew, for once in her life, that something had _finally_ been worth the wait.


End file.
